Chapter 96: Swine

“It hurts so much. What on earth was that person thinking…”

Qi Ran sighed silently, rubbing her right index finger, now wrapped in paper.

Qi Xin couldn’t actually be childish enough to really bite down—with that thought in mind, she had extended her finger. But clearly, Qi Xin was exactly that petty and vengeful, biting down with a force that felt like she might sever the finger bone and all. She only loosened her teeth when Qi Ran finally cried out for her to stop.

What was even more incomprehensible was that after loosening her teeth, Qi Xin didn’t let her withdraw her hand. Instead, she said, “Thanks for the meal,” and contentedly admired the marks she had inflicted on the slender finger. Qi Ran was certain that if she hadn’t forcibly pulled her hand back, that person would have even wanted to take a picture as a keepsake—she was a complete lunatic who reveled in hurting others, Qi Ran thought with a headache.

“Fourth floor… turn right, go all the way to the end…”

Following the path Qi Xin had dictated, Qi Ran arrived at the door at the end of the corridor. It was a fingerprint-access door. After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed her right index finger onto it. With a subtle sound, a camera overhead extended. As it flashed, Qi Ran fought hard to suppress her instinct to dodge the shot, maintaining a calm expression and waiting silently.

The door unlocked smoothly. She couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief—even though she already knew she and Qi Xin were identical, the feeling of impersonating someone else was still nerve-wracking.

Pushing the door open, she entered the room. It looked like a changing room. The short-haired girl sitting drowsily at the table perked up instantly upon seeing her, sitting bolt upright and waving a greeting: “Little Qi Xin, good morning~”

Following Qi Xin’s instructions before they parted, Qi Ran matched the short-haired girl before her to a name—outgoing, short hair, a somewhat carefree personality. This was clearly the young woman named Zhou Liao.

She walked up to the table and said calmly, “Good morning, Elder Sister Zhou Liao.”

Truth be told, playing the role of Qi Xin wasn’t difficult. After all, Qi Xin normally played the role of a docile person anyway. She just had to never refuse anything.

“Team One seems to be using the changing room too,” Zhou Liao lowered her voice, taking a set of examination clothes from a bag behind her and handing them to Qi Ran. “Remember what I told you before? That dangerous one is here too. If you don’t want to see her, use the left locker—ouch!”

“Don’t speak ill of colleagues.” Li Yuan sighed, rapping her knuckles against Zhou Liao’s head. “Morning, Qi Xin. Don’t listen to Zhou Liao’s nonsense. Senior Xun Suchun may be a bit stern, but she’s a good person. Don’t worry.”

“Good morning, Elder Sister Li Yuan.” Qi Ran nodded, thinking to herself: Even if she is a good person, I still have to use the left locker, because Qi Xin never told her that Team One people were here too. She only knew the names and appearances of Team Two members. If someone from Team One showed up, she’d be completely in the dark.

“What happened to your… hand?” Li Yuan then noticed her wrapped finger and asked with confusion.

“I got bitten by a dog,” Qi Ran said calmly. “Before coming over, a Chihuahua. Looked very obedient. I touched it, and it bit me. I’m sorry.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze a little. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was cursing Qi Xin or cursing herself—after all, the role she was playing now was Qi Xin, so wasn’t the one who bit Qi Xin herself? It felt like a strange philosophical question.

“A Chihuahua?” Li Yuan was taken aback, her brow furrowing unconsciously. “Have you had a rabies vaccine?”

“Does Little Qi Xin prefer dogs over cats?” Just as Qi Xin had described, this girl named Zhou Liao seemed to focus on things differently than everyone else.

“I haven’t had the vaccine,” Qi Ran shook her head, pondering how Qi Xin would answer Zhou Liao’s question. “…Cats and dogs, they’re both cute, I think.”

“I’ll take you to get the vaccine this weekend,” Li Yuan sighed, touching Qi Ran’s head. A faint warmth seeped into her hair. “Go change first. I’ll go with you for the physical examination later.”

“What about you, Sister Li Yuan? Do you prefer cats or dogs?” Zhou Liao asked, full of interest.

“Miss Zhou Liao, please don’t neglect your duties too much while at work…”

It took Qi Ran half a beat longer to react. She nodded silently and walked into the locker area of the changing room. Unconsciously, she glanced back at Li Yuan, who was talking with Zhou Liao. What is this? This has completely gone beyond the care a senior should give a newly hired junior, hasn’t it? Even for a real older sister, this would be a bit too attentive.

She took off her clothes and placed them in a locker. Just as she was about to change into the short-sleeved shirt and shorts for the examination, she noticed the paper placed on top of the clothes had slipped to the floor. She bent down to pick up the paper and skimmed it briefly. There looked to be about a dozen or so items to complete, mostly routine things like internal medicine, ENT (ear, nose, and throat), and breast ultrasound. But there were a few items she didn’t understand. That so-called “Lake Negative Divergence Chart” was probably the item Qi Xin was worried about.

“Curious about the tests you’ll be doing next?” She suddenly heard Li Yuan’s voice. Turning around, she saw Li Yuan was taking off her top. She had a very good figure, with long, toned curves and clear signs of training. Her muscles weren’t bulky but hidden beneath a slender exterior. Her abdomen was flat and firm, and a terrifying, long, narrow scar ran across her left waist. The scar extended up under her bra, looking like a wound inflicted by a sharp weapon.

“Did I scare you?” Li Yuan said softly. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No,” Qi Ran shook her head, changing her clothes. “I was just… a little surprised. Was that from a previous mission?”

“Not really,” Li Yuan said with some embarrassment. “It’s actually a bit embarrassing to say. I got this from falling when I was very young.”

“Very young?” Qi Ran was puzzled.

“Probably before my Syndrome manifested,” Li Yuan recalled. “I fell and was cut by the iron sheet of a guardrail. If it had happened after my Syndrome manifested, such a small injury wouldn’t have left a scar.”

Qi Ran glanced again at the terrifying scar, which stretched nearly two-thirds the length of her torso, from her left waist to her collarbone. You call this a small injury? For anyone else, if not treated promptly, they’d have simply bled to death. Having a Syndrome really distorts even your common sense.

She shut her mouth, deciding she shouldn’t continue with too much idle chat. Otherwise, she would just have to relay everything back to Qi Xin later to avoid any discrepancies being discovered when brought up again.

“Brother Liusheng, can I ask a question?”

Xie Liusheng, deeply engrossed in his Sudoku, paused and turned to look at He Ling in the back seat. “What question?”

“Why did you agree to Qi Ran’s request?” He Ling’s brows were tightly furrowed. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll just go in and report us directly?”

He truly didn’t understand this point, much less why Xie Liusheng wasn’t nervous at all, even parking the car directly in front of the Execution Division’s entrance—this was beyond arrogant. If a single Executor walked out of the building and became suspicious of them, not one of them could even think about escaping. They’d all be caught in one fell swoop.

“I’ll let Nan Qiang answer this one,” Xie Liusheng said helplessly. “He Ling, He Ling, use your brain more… I know your Syndrome affects you, but surely not this much?”

He Ling looked at Nan Qiang on the right, who was playing Monster Hunter with her headphones on. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Nan Qiang, without even looking up, spoke first: “Check the Forum.”

He Ling swallowed his words, opened the Forum on his phone, and carefully looked through the pinned posts for the Zhongnan region. “There’s nothing. There’s nothing on the Forum…”

He trailed off as he realized the issue. It was nearly ten o’clock now, yet not only were there no pinned posts on the Forum, there wasn’t a single regular post either.

“Is the Forum down?” he asked, his tone surprised.

Unlike ordinary forums, the Circle’s Forum could never malfunction. It was entirely controlled by the Executors. If someone dared tamper with the Forum, it meant… something was about to go wrong with the Executors.

“New World plans to wipe out all the Pingjiang Executors in one swoop before the new system comes into effect? A big strike?” After thinking it through, he couldn’t help but be flabbergasted. “Are they really crazy? If they actually do this, none of the rest of us will be able to escape!”

Xie Liusheng let out a long sigh and pressed his hand to his forehead. “I think I roughly understand what you’re shocked about… You couldn’t possibly think that New World, even if a bit extreme, is still on the side of us Patients, could you?”

“Isn’t that the case?” He Ling was slightly taken aback. “They say they want to create a world ruled by Talent, and we have Talents too.”

“Naive,” Xie Liusheng ruthlessly punctured his fantasy. “I told you long ago, they are madmen. In their eyes, ordinary people are swine. Executors are swine who side with ordinary people. And we Patients who haven’t joined them are just stubborn, benighted swine who aid the tyrant—only those who have joined them, those Disease Supremacists, are qualified to be called comrades.”