Chapter Seventy-Eight: Xiaomeng’s Past

The next day, Qin Yu awoke amidst sunlight, gazing at her surroundings, both strange and familiar. She blinked, giving her an adorably dazed look.

Tao was crouched at the foot of the bed, eyes wide, staring at Qin Yu. Qin Yu propped herself up and saw Tao there, rubbing her brow as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Tao looked at Qin Yu and replied, “Xiao Meng and Brother have already prepared breakfast. We’re just waiting for you.”

Qin Yu nodded, “Alright, I know. You go ahead, I’ll be right there.” Hearing this, Tao nodded, glanced at Qin Yu once more, then turned and left.

Watching Tao’s departure, Qin Yu rose slowly, tidied herself briefly, and stepped out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Zhao Meng and the others sat upright, waiting. As Qin Yu entered, a gleam flickered in Zhao Meng’s eyes. Qin Yu smiled gently at them, saying, “You could have started eating first, no need to wait for me.”

Zhao Meng stood, taking Qin Yu’s hand. “Xiao Yu, that’s not possible. Whatever we do, we do together.”

Qin Yu let Xiao Meng lead her. Whether it was her imagination or not, she sensed a faint, elusive sadness in Xiao Meng today, making her feel unfamiliar. Yet she didn’t ask what had happened—just as Xiao Meng had always silently stayed by her side, never asking unnecessary questions, so too would she wait for Xiao Meng to confide in her.

Zhao Meng, holding Qin Yu’s hand and feeling its warmth, suddenly remembered the first time she met Xiao Yu. Back then, her hand was icy cold, but after many years, it had become warm, never cold again.

Perhaps, Xiao Meng mused, it was because Xiao Yu’s heart had warmed, and thus her hand too.

Xia Cheng watched the smiling Xiao Meng holding Qin Yu’s hand, his heart pounding fiercely. He had never seen Xiao Meng like this, and this new side of her stirred him even more.

Qin Yu was led to the dining table, where the four of them began their cozy breakfast. Qin Yu felt the meal was unusually warm, as if the chef’s deepest feelings had seeped into the food—above all, warmth.

Warmth? Qin Yu pondered absentmindedly. Was warmth what Xiao Meng thought of while cooking? As she ate, she glanced at Zhao Meng from the corner of her eye, noticing that today, every gesture of Xiao Meng exuded a unique elegance, as if it emanated from her very bones. Her intuition told her that something unexpected had occurred, something that would subtly shift the dynamics between them.

Xia Cheng too noticed Zhao Meng’s unusual demeanor, but he didn’t dwell on it. What did it matter? No matter what happened to Xiao Meng, no matter how she changed, she would always be his Xiao Meng, irreplaceable in his heart.

Compared to the contemplative minds of Xia Cheng and Qin Yu, Tao and Zhao Meng appeared relaxed, swiftly finishing their food.

When all four had finally cleared their plates, Zhao Meng suddenly spoke, “Xiao Yu, Xia Cheng, I overheard your conversation last night.”

Qin Yu and Xia Cheng were startled—had Xiao Meng remembered something? Tao, unaware, looked at the three of them with her big, curious eyes.

Before Xia Cheng and Qin Yu could respond, Zhao Meng continued, “While listening to your talk, I think I recalled something. Would you like to hear it?”

Zhao Meng smiled at them, then tapped her lips with a finger and said, “When I was very young—perhaps just a year old—my parents sold me to an organization. There were many children there. At one, just as I learned to walk, I was forced to study all sorts of things: assembling guns, shooting, hand-to-hand combat, and so on. Of course, it was all theoretical. At five, the theory ended. I was thrown into a jungle full of dangers, and our only task was to survive. After a year, if we were still alive, we’d move on to the next stage.

During that year, I learned to kill, because only through killing could I request help from the organization. I ate anything and everything, edible or not. At five, I knew what cruelty was, what helplessness meant, what it was to kill or be killed.

After a year, I was the sole survivor. My companions were either killed by beasts, starved, or—most often—killed by me, through countless brutal methods.

The first time I killed, I was terrified. The smell of blood overwhelmed my senses, and I asked the organization for a cake, because it was my birthday. Later, I killed many more people. Each time I saw blood spurt forth, my whole body trembled—not with fear, but with excitement.

Yes, excitement. Like a drug, every kill brought immense satisfaction. When I emerged, they said I was a born killer.

To kill for the sake of killing meant carrying far less burden. Later, I met someone—never knew their face, not even if they were male or female.

They taught me etiquette, taught me how to conduct myself, how to protect someone. They taught me many things, and I knew that if I didn’t learn, only death awaited me.

When I entered the organization, the name I heard most often—do you know whose it was?”

Zhao Meng looked straight at Qin Yu. Qin Yu, a sense of foreboding rising within her, responded bitterly, “Was it me?”

Zhao Meng smiled and snapped her fingers. “Exactly!”

Then she glanced at Xia Cheng, seeing the worry in his face, and sent him a reassuring look. With a light tone, she went on, “I was in the organization for nearly ten years. Every day, my required task was to write the name Qin Yu a thousand times, to say ‘Qin Yu, my master’ a thousand times. Not until I finished could I rest.

For ten years, I hated and struggled. But during that year in the jungle, the name Qin Yu became my reason for survival. I wanted to see, to see who this Qin Yu was that we recited day and night. What kind of person could inspire such devotion from the organization, make them put us children in such peril, who could be so special that they’d abandon a so-called born killer to protect her?”

Zhao Meng gazed at Qin Yu, her eyes shimmering with tears. Qin Yu, seeing Xiao Meng like this, felt a sharp pain in her heart. It turned out, she had always been the most foolish one of all.