Category: Come, Let Me Take You Home

No. 69 Dust of the World

Even the most winding roads ultimately lead to the same destination.

Just like in my previous life, some things, no matter how hard you fought, ended the same way.

The boss always knew who deserved a promotion. And for those who didn’t, he offered encouragement and hope, perpetuating the illusion of progress.

But even in despair, we found ways to color our own worlds.

“Wherever I go, your gentle gaze follows. Be proud of me, deeply proud…”

The hopeful yet melancholic melody streaming through my earphones calmed my restless heart.

“The world unfolds before me, gently opening and closing…”

Xiaodie loved to listen to music on our way home, one earbud in her ear, the other pressed against mine. It was her way of making our relationship feel more “couple-like,” she claimed.

The entire school knew about us now.

Or rather, they knew about our ambiguous, undefined relationship. We were more than friends, yet not quite lovers. After all, we had only held hands and shared a few innocent kisses.

“For in this world, we are all ephemeral…”

Three days had passed since my last communication with my father.

Miracles were rare, especially when confronted with the harsh realities of life.

We could chase our dreams, but sometimes, we had to bow to the inevitable.

“Yi Yao…”

Xiaodie’s voice, soft and hesitant, broke through my thoughts as we neared her neighborhood.

“Yes?”

“Are you… sad?”

“Why?”

“You tried so hard, but your mother still… Are you sad?”

“If anyone’s sad, it should be my past self.”

I pedaled along the empty road, the melody from Xiaodie’s music player filling the silence. “I cried for hours that day, until my throat was raw and I passed out from exhaustion. For days afterward, I was in a daze, unable to accept that she was gone.”

“But…”

“You’re stronger than I was, Xiaodie.”

I had only lost my mother. She had lost everyone.

We had to live in the present.

“And… thank you.”

I stopped the bicycle in front of her apartment building and met her gaze.

“For what?”

“For everything you did for my mother. For the money, for the company.”

100,000 yuan might not seem like much to some families, but for Xiaodie, it was her entire inheritance.

She averted her gaze. “It was the least I could do.”

You have no idea what money truly means to people.

A sixteen-year-old girl, raised in comfort and privilege, wouldn’t understand the weight of those numbers until she faced true hardship.

“Do you… have any money left?”

“Maybe…”

“I’m serious, Xiaodie.”

“Okay, okay. At this rate, we’ll run out of money in about three months.”

She leaned against me, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, Yi Yao…”

Ouyang Dati hadn’t secured any financial assistance for Xiaobai’s care. And with his cousin’s situation, we wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon.

Xiaodie had initially assumed she could stay with us for a while, figuring out her finances later. But the surgery had drained our savings, and the subsequent treatment for the infection had only made things worse. We were practically broke, relying on the generosity of relatives to make ends meet.

Sometimes, I thought about Pai Ge. Money was nothing to him. Whether I approached him as a member of the Pai family or as a member of the Black Dragon Society, he would help. Any problem that could be solved with money was no problem at all.

But that was my last resort, my final lifeline.

“How’s the Weibo thing going?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Um… we have about a thousand views and a few dozen followers.”

She hesitated. “Yi Yao, maybe we should just shut it down.”

Her defeated tone surprised me. “Why?”

“Because… cosplay props are expensive. At this rate, we’ll never be as popular as those famous cosplayers.”

“But wasn’t that your dream?”

“Dreams have to be grounded in reality.” She took my hands. “Yi Yao, I used to think you were too focused on reality. Now I realize I was the naive one.”

She pulled out a gun from a hidden compartment in her skirt, her fingers tracing the emblem that gleamed in the fading sunlight. “My father left me so much, and I squandered it all…”

That gun alone was worth more than six months of living expenses for an average family.

The pressure was getting to her.

“Huang Yingdie.” It was the first time I had addressed her by her full name. “Remember what you said? We were going to embrace the world of anime together. Dancing, streaming, drawing, cosplaying. Those were your dreams, weren’t they?”

“But…”

“Then don’t give up.” My voice was firm, resolute. “This isn’t a terminal illness. It’s not an impossible dream. I’m telling you, as someone who knows the realities of this world, that you can achieve your dreams if you work hard enough. We can’t afford props? We’ll make them ourselves. We don’t know how? We’ll learn. One stitch at a time. We can’t dance? We’ll wake up an hour earlier every day and practice.”

“Life is long, Xiaodie. Even though my mother is gone, I still have my father. And I have you.”

Even if I lost everything, I still had Yi Yao, my present self, my family.

“You…” Her eyes met mine, their usual sparkle returning. “You support me?”

“Of course. You’re my girlfriend. But be warned, it’s going to be tough.” I smiled. “What do you want for dinner?”

“…”

The small villa her father had left her was tucked away in a quiet corner of the complex.

It was a two-story house with a spacious garden, but it was mostly unfinished, lacking furniture and decorations. Only Xiaodie’s room had a semblance of warmth and personality.

As for Xiaobai, we had relegated it to the garden. True to Ouyang Dati’s words, the tiger cub, possessed by the spirit of a dog, was surprisingly well-behaved. It spent its days lounging in the flowerbeds, obediently following our commands when we were around.

“Xiaobai?”

I returned home, laden with groceries, and headed to the garden, a bowl of raw meat in hand.

“Woof…”

A large, orange and black head emerged from a thicket of overgrown weeds.

“Purrrr…”

Recognizing me, Xiaobai lumbered out of its hiding place, yawned, and closed its eyes.

“Still sleepy?”

I rinsed the food bowl and placed the fresh meat inside. “Eat when you’re hungry.”

“Snore.”

It rolled over and went back to sleep.

“It’s living the good life,” Xiaodie commented, joining me in the garden. “Are there any anime where the main character owns a tiger?”

“Toradora?”

“That’s a tiger in the title, not a pet tiger.”

“Hayate the Combat Butler?”

“You’ve seen that old show?”

“Do I look that old-fashioned?”

Thanks to Xiaobai, our grocery bill had quadrupled. And this was just a cub. I shuddered to think about how much it would cost to feed a full-grown tiger.

“It’s still crazy to think we have a tiger living in our backyard.”

I turned to go back inside, but my phone rang.

It was my father. His voice, weary and strained, echoed through the receiver.

“Yi Yao, come home.”

No. 68 Weary Eyes Filled with Hope

Xiaodie and I walked under a shared umbrella, the path ahead shrouded in a gloomy haze. The school grounds bustled with students heading home after another long day.

“Wanna play some games tonight?”

“Sure, I’ll be your support Yasuo. I’m amazing!”

“Hey, did you hear about that girl from Class 9?”

“Really? Didn’t she just get caught sneaking off to a hotel last week? Did she find someone new?”

“Nope, same guy. But this time, someone filmed them. It’s all over Weibo…”

“Why does English even exist? I bombed the test again…”

“Math is way harder! I couldn’t even answer the last few questions.”

A symphony of chatter, a tapestry of youthful anxieties and fleeting joys.

Like parallel worlds momentarily intersecting.

“Why…?”

Xiaodie stopped abruptly as we reached the row of mango trees lining the path.

“It’s not fair… You and your father… you tried so hard…”

Her voice cracked with despair, tinged with anger and frustration.

I simply watched her, my heart aching, and gently stroked her hair.

“Yi Yao…”

She looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes.

I forced a smile. “It’s okay.”

It’s okay…

This was life, wasn’t it?

A few days ago, my father, following the doctor’s advice, had made the difficult decision to discontinue treatment and bring my mother home.

The infection had spread, her organs failing.

Just like in my memories, she spent her final days at home.

Our ancestral home in the countryside, a place of serene beauty.

Hospitals often discouraged patients from dying on their premises. When all hope was lost, they would persuade families to take their loved ones home. Most families, understanding the unspoken rule and yearning for a sense of closure, complied.

“I’m sorry… I should be the one comforting you…”

Xiaodie hugged me tightly, her tears soaking through my shirt.

The sky rumbled with thunder, the rain intensifying.

“It’s okay. Let’s go home.”

“Home” was now Xiaodie’s house.

With my mother back in the countryside, our apartment was deemed uninhabitable according to some local superstition. My father, worried about disrupting my studies, had arranged for me to stay with Xiaodie.

We reached the bicycle shed. As I unlocked my old, faded blue bicycle, memories flooded back—our first encounter, and fragments of Yi Yao’s childhood.

“Here, hold the umbrella.”

I handed her the umbrella and mounted the bicycle.

She obeyed, her arms wrapped around my waist.

“Should we go to Ouyang Dati’s place first?”

“Yes.”

I nodded and started pedaling.

The white tiger cub we had found in the cave had been identified as a protected species. We couldn’t abandon it or harm it. And to make matters worse, it refused to stay at the zoo. Ouyang Dati, unable to care for it alone, had reached out to us for help.

We found him sitting on a bench outside his apartment building, his white shirt soaked through, his shoulders slumped.

I parked the bicycle, retrieved another umbrella from my backpack, and approached him.

“You’re here.”

His face was haggard, as if he had aged decades overnight. The weariness in his eyes contrasted sharply with his muscular physique.

“And Xiaodie. Have you two eaten dinner?”

Xiaodie shook her head.

“What are you doing here?” I asked softly.

“Sorry, I forgot you were coming today. I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.”

He forced a smile, his usual confidence replaced by a weary resignation. He stood up, wiping the rain from his face. “My cousin killed someone. He’s on the run. I’ve been ordered to convince him to surrender within a month.”

“I see…”

I didn’t know what to say.

According to online records, Ouyang Dati was only in his early twenties. He had joined the military after high school, known for his integrity and loyalty. He had risen through the ranks, securing a respectable position upon his return. But his success didn’t guarantee his family’s well-being. There were countless stories of families sacrificing one child’s future to secure a better life for another. I couldn’t judge him.

Everyone in this world carried their own burdens, their own tales of heartbreak and despair.

“Anyway, take that little menace off my hands. I’m going crazy,” he said, leading us inside.

The moment he opened the door, a low growl echoed from within.

“Alright, alright, your highness. They’re here.”

He entered a small room off the main hallway and emerged moments later, a metal chain leash in hand.

The creature at the other end of the leash bolted out the moment the door opened, its speed and ferocity catching Ouyang Dati off guard. He stumbled, almost losing his grip on the chain.

“Rrrrrrr…”

The tiger, now the size of a large dog, pounced on Xiaodie, pinning her against the wall.

“S-stop… licking me…”

She tried to push it away, her hands covering her face.

It behaved more like a dog than a tiger, its ferocious appearance a facade. Were tigers this affectionate?

“The vet said there’s something wrong with its brain,” Ouyang Dati explained, regaining his footing. “It’s a rare neurological condition in felines, practically incurable. That’s why it’s behaving like this. It must have imprinted on Huang Yingdie’s scent back in the cave. It sees you two as its family now.”

“Is that why it’s so… hyper?” I asked, pointing at Xiaobai.

He shrugged. “We tried socializing it with police dogs for a while.”

“I don’t know if that helped or made things worse…”

“Hey, look at the bright side. It might look like a fearsome predator, but it’s professionally trained. It won’t be picky about food, it’s housebroken, and it understands basic commands. You’re not losing anything by keeping it. It’ll even protect your home from burglars.”

Except for the cost, my friend.

The tiger cub had grown considerably in the past month. It was now the size of an adult husky. Which meant…

It probably ate more than Xiaodie and I combined.

“Will you cover its food expenses?” I asked.

“Come on, I pulled a lot of strings to get you permission to keep it. Can’t you afford to feed a little tiger?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Besides, it wasn’t like we had asked for this. At least cats were cute and cuddly. What good was a tiger, apart from eating us out of house and home?

“Alright, alright, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll drop Xiaobai off at your place later. Just keep it for now. Let me know if you need any money.” He sighed. “And about Shadow… Pai Ge told you, right?”

“Yes.”

Pai Ge had warned us that Shadow, for reasons unknown, had shifted their focus from the government officials to the Black Dragon Society. Xiaodie and I, as the victims of their previous attack, were now their primary targets.

“We have a lead. It’s the same issue as before. There’s a mole within the Black Dragon Society.”

“What?” I was stunned. “The mole is still active?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “It’s good news for us, in a way. The mole is in the Black Dragon Society, not the Jiangnan Association. But be careful, Yi Yao. I’m worried they might come after you directly. The government is planning a major crackdown in two months. There’s going to be a massive reshuffling of power in Upper Capital City. Shadow’s days are numbered.”

No. 67 Guarding Faded Feelings

As the doctor had warned, my mother’s infection worsened.

Xiaodie and I spent almost every evening that week at the hospital. My mother, confined to the intensive care unit, was constantly feverish, her moments of consciousness filled with delirium, making communication impossible.

The doctors had no solutions, only advice. They urged my father to stay by her side around the clock and reminded us to pay close attention to her words, as if hinting that these might be her final farewells.

“You two have been attending school all day. You must be tired. I’ll watch over her. Go home and rest,” my father said, his voice weary, as we arrived at the hospital on Sunday afternoon. He had been awake for days, tirelessly peeling fruit for my mother, who was asleep.

“But…”

I hesitated.

The future of our family had veered into uncharted territory.

If I had followed the original timeline, I would have known the exact date of my mother’s death, the precise sequence of events. But my father’s decision to proceed with the surgery, influenced by my gender, had thrown everything into disarray. I was caught between hope and despair, unsure which path to embrace.

“There’s nothing you can do here. She’s asleep.” He sighed, glancing at my mother. “Xiaodie, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“It’s my pleasure, Uncle. I should be thanking you for letting me stay at your place and eat all your food,” Xiaodie replied cheerfully.

“Don’t mention it. Here’s a letter for you.” He retrieved an envelope from the bedside table and handed it to her. “I need to talk to Yi Yao alone.”

“I’ll wait for you outside, Yi Yao.” She waved goodbye and left the ward, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

I sat down beside my mother’s bed.

As Xiaodie left, my father turned to me, his gaze unreadable. “Yi Yao, how did you meet the mayor’s daughter?”

“Huh?”

I had expected him to ask about my mother’s condition. “We met while hanging out with friends. Why?”

“Do you like her?”

“Like her? What do you mean?”

His question caught me off guard. It was like being interrogated about a forbidden romance.

Our interactions at home weren’t particularly affectionate. We ate together, slept in the same room, that was all. And my father was rarely home. How had he noticed anything?

“It’s nothing. You’ve come to terms with your mother’s illness, haven’t you?”

His sudden change of subject left me confused. “Yeah…” I mumbled, unsure how to respond.

“I never expected you to do so well in school. Have you thought about which high school you want to attend?”

“Does it matter where I go?” I asked, surprised.

Hadn’t he said that education was pointless for girls? Hadn’t he said we were broke?

“I don’t have any preference. With your grades, you can get into any high school in the city.”

“Yi Yao… I see how hard you’re working. But… I think you should find a boyfriend.”

He added, his voice heavy with guilt, “I’ve let you down too many times. You deserve…”

“I’ll make my own decisions,” I said coldly, meeting his gaze. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

The person you love, and the person who loves you. How do you choose?

We owed each other nothing.

The memories of this body, of Yi Yao’s past, held little affection for her father. It was the natural rebellion of a teenage girl.

She had simply believed that, since he had given her life, she had a duty to be a good daughter, to study hard, to make him proud.

It was a transactional relationship, devoid of emotional depth. He provided for her, and she fulfilled his expectations.

When she couldn’t meet those expectations, she had sought escape.

I, however, still harbored some affection for him, a remnant from my previous life. But as I witnessed his flaws, his weaknesses, his betrayals, that affection had begun to fade.

“You… you know, don’t you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Know what?” I feigned ignorance.

As if sensing the tension in our conversation, my mother stirred in her sleep, her brow furrowed.

“Never mind… just keep your phone on while you’re at school,” he said, echoing the words from my memory.

“Why?”

“Every time your mother has a crisis, the doctors tell me she has no will to live. I’m worried…”

“Don’t be silly, Dad. She’ll be fine. She’s a fighter. She’s pulled through so much already.”

“I hope so. We’ve done everything we can. The rest is up to fate…”

“And one more thing. I don’t want you to be with that girl.”

His words hit me like a thunderbolt, shattering my world.

“You’re too young. It’s not right. You can wait until university to start dating. I’m not a strict father. As long as the person is good to you, I don’t care who you date. Every parent wants their child to be happy.”

But how did he know about Xiaodie and me?

“Go on, talk to her. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll stay here with your mother. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“…”

I wanted to argue, to defend our relationship, but his gaze was unwavering. I lowered my eyes, defeated, and left the ward without a word.

“How did it go?”

Xiaodie, who had been waiting patiently outside, looked at me with concern.

“I don’t know. Maybe history is repeating itself,” I said, forcing a smile.

And then, she pulled me into a warm embrace.

“I love your strength, Yi Yao, but it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes,” she whispered, her voice soothing. “No matter what happens, you have me. Don’t give up.”

Her hug was tight, her heartbeat a comforting rhythm against my back.

“I’m fine.”

I gently pushed her away, my gaze falling on the envelope in her hand. “What did my mother tell you?”

She tucked the envelope into her skirt pocket and tilted her head playfully. “It’s a secret.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“I’ll tell you eventually. Hey, Yi Yao, Ouyang Dati just messaged me. They can’t handle Xiaobai anymore.”

We walked towards the elevator, and she showed me the message on her phone.

“Xiaobai?” It took me a moment to realize she was referring to the white tiger cub we had encountered in the cave. “Can’t they just take it to the zoo?”

“Dati said it’s not possible. Xiaobai seems to have some psychological issues. It goes berserk if it doesn’t see us every day.”

“How did they manage for the past few months?”

“They showed it pictures of us.”

“I’ve never heard of a tiger behaving like that.”

“Dati said it’s more like a dog.”

My phone rang. The caller ID showed a picture of Pai Ge, a playing card held jauntily between his fingers.

“What’s up?”

“Yi Yao, be careful. Shadow seems to be onto you and Xiaodie,” he said, his voice serious.

No. 66 The Game of Power

“Come on, Yi Yao, cheer up!”

As I lowered my phone, I met Xiaodie’s encouraging gaze. She had seen the message.

“My dad doesn’t understand. A successful surgery is only half the battle.” I tucked my completed assignments into my bag, my voice flat. “Things aren’t always black and white. The higher the hopes, the greater the disappointment.”

It was the complexity of the world that had drawn me to computers in the first place.

Machines didn’t play mind games. Computers only understood 0 and 1, on and off. Right was right, wrong was wrong. A program either executed successfully, producing a result, or it failed, generating an error. Simple, straightforward, unambiguous.

If only the real world were that simple.

“But…” Xiaodie frowned. “I don’t get it. Didn’t you say the surgery was successful? Is there another surgery scheduled?”

I turned to her, the setting sun painting her face a soft crimson as she sat by the window.

“With major surgeries, especially transplants, the biggest challenge isn’t the success rate, but the infection rate.”

Unless cloning technology became widespread, transplant surgeries would always carry the risk of rejection. The human body’s immune system attacked foreign objects, including transplanted organs. To ensure the organ’s survival, doctors had to suppress the immune system, often using powerful drugs with debilitating side effects.

This left the patient vulnerable to infections, which could be fatal.

It was a catch-22. Strengthen the immune system, and the transplanted organ would be rejected. Suppress it, and the infection would spread. Either way, the outcome was grim.

“But at least she survived the surgery. That’s something to be happy about, right?”

The 20% success rate was just a statistic. A patient’s mental state played a crucial role in their recovery.

And for this surgery, we had exhausted all our resources.

“You’re right! Let’s visit your mom at the hospital tonight!” Xiaodie chirped, linking her arm with mine. “I bet she’ll be happy to see you when she wakes up.”

Her innocent optimism made it difficult to break the bad news.

No patient who had undergone such a major surgery would wake up within a few hours. My mother would remain in the sterile isolation ward for at least a day or two. Visitors wouldn’t be allowed.

Even without a medical background, I knew that her chances of developing an infection were practically 100%. The best the doctors could do was prepare her mentally for the challenges ahead.

“You’ve been through a lot lately. Get some rest,” I said, forcing a smile and patting her head.

The April monthly exam results were out. Xiaodie had placed second in our class and forty-third overall.

It was an impressive feat, considering she had been a notorious truant just a few months ago.

“Hey, Yi Yao, what do you think about the issue everyone’s talking about?”

Tan Lijiang and Liang Tong approached our desk as I packed my bag, settling down beside me as if we were old friends.

“We’re neutral,” I replied.

They were referring to the school’s new policy regarding supplementary classes.

Upper Capital City No. 3 Middle School had announced that, starting in April, classes would be held seven days a week, with only Sunday afternoons off, until the high school entrance exams in June.

The students were outraged. Even the rival factions led by Tan Lijiang and Li Xiang had united in protest, planning to file a complaint with the education bureau.

“Why are you so passive, Yi Yao? If we don’t fight back, they’ll just keep pushing us further! If they think we’re pushovers, who knows what they’ll do next? We’re doing this for the future generations!” Tan Lijiang argued.

For the future generations? So they can grow up and resent you?

“I’m sorry…”

I kept my thoughts to myself, my expression neutral.

“Yi Yao, you can’t be so timid! If you don’t learn to stand up for yourself now, you’ll be bullied your entire life!”

He was still trying to persuade me.

Most of our classmates lived in the school dorms. Only those who lived off-campus could easily file a complaint. Xiaodie and I had become their targets.

“You’ll understand when you enter the real world. All I can tell you now is that these are the best days of our lives.”

I took Xiaodie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Okay…”

“Yi Yao!”

Tan Lijiang started to say something, but Liang Tong stopped him, shaking his head.

You’re both adorable.

Someone insults you, their father punches you, and you want to report them to their grandfather? You’re asking for more trouble.

Those complaint hotlines were as effective as the “No Minors Allowed” signs outside internet cafes.

Life was a game, and the only challenge was figuring out the rules.

“Yi Yao… I don’t understand…” Xiaodie asked curiously as we walked along the tree-lined path, the setting sun casting long shadows around us. “What did you mean about the real world?”

“Let me give you an example.”

I thought for a moment. “There was a news report recently about a famous company where factory workers were averaging over 109 hours of overtime per month. The media criticized the company for violating human rights, for not giving their workers enough rest. The company’s response was that the workers were volunteering for overtime and that they were being paid accordingly.”

“109 hours… That’s insane! That’s like working an extra three hours every day! Eleven hours a day! And they’re claiming it’s voluntary? Is the world really that cruel?”

I hesitated, then decided to tell her the truth. “Xiaodie, the key point is that this is a famous company.”

“Yeah, it’s outrageous that a famous company would treat its workers like that!”

“If a famous company is doing this, imagine what’s happening in lesser-known companies.”

We reached the bicycle shed. “I haven’t researched the current situation, but I know that seven years from now, when we graduate from university, most factory workers in Upper Capital City will be working at least 140 hours of overtime per month. They’ll be slaving away day and night, with barely any time to sleep. Because without overtime, their base salary won’t be enough to survive, especially those with families to support. And some factories don’t even pay overtime. So that famous company… people will be lining up to work there.”

The 109 hours mentioned in the news report was probably an understatement.

“The legal limit for overtime is 120 hours per month. Think about it. Their overtime exceeds the legal limit. And this has been going on for thirty years. Do you think no one has reported it? How many times has the law actually been enforced?”

If you refused to do it, someone else, desperate for money, would gladly take your place. If you didn’t want to attend this school, someone else, yearning for education, would gladly take your seat.

Xiaodie lowered her head, her earlier cheerfulness replaced by a somber silence.

“Then… then what’s the point of it all?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Working ourselves to death, with no time for ourselves, no time for anything but survival…”

That’s why I told Tan Lijiang that these were the best days of our lives. Our carefree student days.

I parked the bicycle and gently pinched her cheek, forcing a smile. “Just think of it as a game, Xiaodie. Everyone else is just an NPC. And besides, do you really think I would let you work in a place like that?”

“But you…”

“Don’t worry, I know the rules of this game. And you’re my girlfriend now. I’ll take care of you.”

“…”

On our way home, I gave in to Xiaodie’s request and detoured to the hospital where my mother was recovering.

“Her condition is still critical. Her fever isn’t going down, and the infection is spreading. You need to prepare yourselves for the worst,” my father said, his voice grim, as we arrived at her ward. He was talking to a doctor.

“But the surgery was successful, wasn’t it?” I asked, my heart sinking.

“Yes, the surgery was successful. But now we’re dealing with an infection. Her immune system is compromised. Even a common cold could be fatal. And this infection…”

“Just sign this consent form,” the doctor said, handing my father a clipboard.

No. 65 Wiping Away the Sleep of Time

“This is outrageous!”

The morning reading session ended, and Xiaodie and I were summoned to the office of our new homeroom teacher.

She was a formidable woman in her forties, a senior teacher with a stern expression and a reputation for having powerful connections. I remembered her vividly from my past life—she was the only teacher who had ever truly scolded me. It had been over a minor test, a single careless mistake that cost me my top ranking in the class.

Humans were strange creatures. Eighty percent of the class had answered that question incorrectly, but I, the top student, was the only one who received her wrath.

“Explain yourselves! What were you thinking this morning? Do your parents know about this? You two might look innocent, but your behavior is anything but! Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?”

As in my memory, she launched into a tirade the moment we stepped into her office.

The reason for her anger, of course, was our little display of affection in the bicycle shed that morning.

Normally, such incidents, even if witnessed by multiple students, wouldn’t reach the ears of the teachers. No student would bother to snitch, knowing it would only bring them trouble. But our kiss had been witnessed by one of the teachers in the office, and it had quickly made its way to our homeroom teacher.

“Yi Yao, what have you been doing during your absence? Seducing your classmates? Are you a boy or a girl? Have you no shame?”

Her ignorance of my extended absence was understandable, but Xiaodie…

“Excuse me, teacher, but what are you talking about?” Xiaodie asked calmly, her gaze unwavering despite the scrutiny of the other teachers in the office. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your accusations. Yi Yao is my good friend, and I won’t tolerate any slander against her.”

“Don’t understand?!”

The teacher’s face flushed red, her veins bulging. “Alright, Huang Yingdie, let me ask you this. Are you and Yi Yao in a romantic relationship?”

“Yes.”

To my surprise, she admitted it outright.

“Bang!”

The teacher slammed her hand on the desk and stood up. “And you claim you don’t understand? Am I wrong to call you in here?”

Xiaodie opened her mouth to retort, but I stopped her with a gesture. “Teacher, I’m not sure which school rule we have violated.”

“You…”

She sputtered, speechless, her anger growing.

I suspected it was more frustration than anything else.

“The school rules prohibit students from dating!” she declared, as if clinging to a lifeline. “You two are dating, which is a clear violation! I can call your parents and have you expelled!”

“Chapter 3, Article 12 of the Upper Capital City No. 3 Middle School Rules and Regulations states: ‘Students are expected to focus on their studies and complete all assigned work. Tardiness and early departures are prohibited. Mutual support and cooperation between male and female students are encouraged, but romantic relationships are strictly forbidden.’” I recited the rule flawlessly. “However, both Huang Yingdie and I are female. Therefore, technically, we haven’t violated any rules.”

I had memorized the school rules, just in case.

“So you’re playing word games with me now, are you?”

She pointed a trembling finger at us, her expression darkening. “Let me tell you, Yi Yao, with this attitude, I can send you both to the disciplinary office. And even your father won’t be able to save you then.”

“Go ahead.” I yawned. “If you think Xiaodie and I are a burden on this class, that we’re somehow hindering the academic progress of these 700 other students, then by all means, expel us. Oh, and my father’s business is struggling lately. He doesn’t want me to continue my education anyway. If you call him, he’ll probably come and take me home right away.”

I knew the rules of the game.

When a single individual’s value exceeded 30% of the group’s total worth, the leader of that group would grant that individual considerable leeway.

My words were a subtle reminder of our value to the school.

What did schools care about most?

Grades. Nothing else mattered.

Suicides, teenage romances—they were all insignificant compared to academic performance.

As long as the school could boast a high university acceptance rate, with students getting into prestigious institutions like Tsinghua and Peking University, negative press was a small price to pay.

They claimed to care about the well-being of their students, but in reality, it all boiled down to money.

The teachers and staff needed to be paid. The principal had a business to run.

High academic performance attracted more students, which translated into higher revenue.

A student with the potential to be the top scorer in the entire city was a valuable asset, even in a prestigious high school. In a regular middle school like ours, she was practically a gold mine.

The teacher’s threat of expulsion was just that—a threat.

My relationship with Xiaodie was out in the open now. I wasn’t going to humiliate her by claiming it was just a joke. I would stand my ground.

Just like Liang Zhenyi had said, if you didn’t like someone, you confronted them head-on.

Submissiveness only invited further bullying.

Every success story was built on a mountain of failures.

“Are you threatening me?”

She had caught on to my implication. Her tone softened slightly.

It was all about saving face.

Our transgression wasn’t that serious. Two girls kissing in school. The rule against dating was meant to prevent distractions from academics. But we were both top students. What did it matter if we were dating? It was our parents’ problem, not the school’s. And who said a kiss between two girls automatically implied a romantic relationship? It wasn’t exactly a scandalous headline.

The real issue was that we had been seen by another teacher, and our homeroom teacher’s pride had been wounded.

“If you perceive it as a threat, then so be it.” I glanced at the teacher who had reported us. “I don’t see the point of studying alongside 700 other students who are barely scraping by, even with me carrying the class on my back. If you expel me, maybe I can explore other educational options.”

My message was clear: I wasn’t backing down.

Expelling me would give her a momentary sense of satisfaction, a chance to assert her authority in front of her colleagues. But keeping me would earn her favor with the administration, perhaps even a bonus.

No one could resist the allure of money.

“Fine, fine, fine. You win, Yi Yao.” She gritted her teeth and sat down. “But what if you don’t get first place in the next monthly exam?”

“If that happens, I’ll transfer ten times the bonus you would have received to your Alipay account.”

“You think teachers get bonuses for good grades? Let me tell you, even if you all fail miserably, I’ll still receive my full salary!”

And I bet your next line is, “Once you get into university, you can do whatever you want. You can date whoever you want.”

“Then I’ll transfer ten times your salary.” I smiled. “Is it 4,000 yuan?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “No, it’s 3,200.”

“Alright, if I don’t get first place, I’ll transfer 32,000 yuan to your account. Deal?”

“You’re just a child. Why are you so obsessed with money?”

“It’s settled then. Class is about to start. We’ll be going now. Goodbye, teacher.”

Before she could recover, I grabbed Xiaodie’s hand and fled the office.

We didn’t stop running until we reached our classroom.

“Yi… Yi Yao, you seem… different,” she said, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Do I?” I took out my textbook and pen.

“Yes. You’ve always been strong-willed, but I’ve never seen you stand up to a teacher like that. Why did you do it? Why did you say those things?”

“Because she insulted you.”

“I…”

She looked touched.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” I pulled out a playing card from a hidden slot in my skirt and studied the pattern. “When you kissed me this morning, I realized something. It’s one of Pai Ge’s life lessons.”

“What is it?”

“Success is the only measure of a hero.”

…

The incident quickly blew over. News of our relationship spread through the school, but since we had always been close, no one treated us differently. Tan Lijiang and the others occasionally joked about attending our wedding, but that was the extent of it.

As the school day drew to a close, I received a text message.

It was from my father. Four simple words: “Your mother’s surgery was successful.”

No. 64 Even If Seas Turn to Mulberry Fields

A wave of anxiety washed over me as Xiaodie and I greeted another morning.

The familiar gray mist hung heavy over the residential complex. A faint glimmer of light peeked through the eastern horizon as I opened the window.

After preparing two bowls of noodles, I carried them to the living room and returned to my room, pulling back the covers and opening the curtains.

“Ugh…”

Xiaodie groaned, her eyes fluttering open as the sunlight and cool air hit her face. She glared at me sleepily. “Can’t you wake me up like a normal person, Yi Yao?”

She was wearing only a thin sleepdress, her small frame vulnerable and inviting. The fabric had slipped down, revealing the curve of her shoulder, and her hair was a tangled mess, a single stubborn strand sticking up defiantly. The sight was both endearing and incredibly tempting.

If I were still a boy, I wouldn’t be able to resist.

“You mean like in those anime, where I barge into your room, jump on your bed, and shout, ‘Wake up, sleepyhead!’ while showering you with affection?” I said flatly, gathering my homework and tossing her backpack onto the bed.

“That would be nice!”

“Nice, my foot. Get up and eat. We’ll be late for school.”

I retrieved her freshly laundered uniform and skirt from the balcony and handed them to her. “The forecast says it might rain today. Pack an umbrella. And if you’re still having cramps, bring a thermos with some hot water. This weather isn’t kind to periods. I’ll be monitoring your diet today.”

It took her a moment to process my words. “How did you know…”

I pointed at the calendar on the wall. “You told me it starts on the 7th. It’s the 8th today.”

“Awww… Yi Yao, you make all the other boys seem like immature little kids. You even remember my period cycle! They could never be as thoughtful as you…”

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Get up and eat.”

I knew she was prone to sleeping in.

“I laid out your clothes. Get dressed and come to the living room after you’re done.”

I left the room, a sigh escaping my lips.

This was life, I suppose.

“Hey, Yi Yao, how about this hat? Can I wear it to school?”

Xiaodie emerged from my room, her hair still damp from her shower, sporting a navy blue cap with a fleet insignia. It surprisingly complemented her uniform and skirt.

“Hibiki or Akatsuki?”

Kantai Collection, a light yuri anime that had been banned from broadcast. I remembered that Hibiki and Akatsuki from the Sixth Destroyer Division often wore similar hats.

“It doesn’t matter. I got it from Taobao. They said it’s Hibiki, but I think it suits me more as Akatsuki. After all, my hair isn’t silver.”

Just like at the hospital, she had a knack for surprising me with small, unexpected gestures.

Most of them were anime-related, of course.

I had to admit, the hat, coupled with her long hair cascading down her back, gave her a certain charm.

She had declared that since I was taking care of the cooking and cleaning, it was her duty to be adorable.

“Don’t worry, medical technology is advancing every day. The surgery will be fine,” she said, hopping onto the back of my bicycle as we left the apartment complex.

“Yeah.”

I didn’t know how to feel.

I wanted my mother to enjoy her remaining year without the ordeal of surgery, yet I clung to the hope that the transplant would be successful. But the thought of it failing, of her life being cut short…

“You’re very close to your mother, aren’t you?” she asked as we rode onto the main road.

“No, actually. I wasn’t as close to her as I was to my father.”

“What?”

Her surprise was evident in her voice.

“In my previous life, my father was strict about my studies. He only allowed me to visit my mother at the hospital on Sundays. And even then, I was always busy with homework. I barely talked to her.”

I kept my voice steady, my gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Even in her final days, my father simply told me that we couldn’t afford to keep her in the hospital anymore, that she was resting at home. He told me to keep my phone on in case he needed me to come home. Three days later, my phone rang during class.”

“It was my father, telling me to come home immediately, to see my mother one last time. When I arrived, she was burning with fever, her mind delirious. I held her hand, and she whispered, ‘I wish you were a girl.’”

My vision blurred with unshed tears.

“What did she mean?”

“She had always been proud of having a son. But in that moment, knowing about my father’s infidelity, she wished I had been a girl.”

People never truly appreciated what they had until it was gone.

Their children’s achievements, their families’ well-being.

“After her funeral, I had to return to our ancestral home for the traditional mourning rituals. When I came back, I discovered that I had been given a major demerit for being absent from school for seven days. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I was attending Municipal High School No. 1, the school everyone dreamed of getting into.”

“But it was a special circumstance!”

“The school didn’t care. Even after a student committed suicide, we were still expected to attend classes. A family member’s death was apparently not a valid excuse. Because of that demerit, I lost my chance at becoming a model student, and I missed out on my dream university.”

We arrived at the school, the bicycle wobbling slightly as I parked it.

“When I came to this world, I was actually happy. I thought I could redo everything, undo all the tragedies, find redemption. But I was wrong. I’ve tried my best, but nothing has changed.”

“I became a girl, and my mother in this world told me, ‘I wish you were a boy’…”

“What am I even fighting for?”

My voice cracked with despair as I locked the bicycle.

In the end, my family was still falling apart.

My efforts wouldn’t cure my mother’s illness, nor would they bring happiness to our home.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would change.

“That’s not true! It’s not like that!”

Xiaodie grabbed my hands, her voice firm.

“You saved me.”

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with conviction. “You said that I would be dead by now in your original timeline. I wouldn’t be here, right? We wouldn’t have shared those moments with your mother at the hospital. That’s the reward for your efforts, Yi Yao!”

Her voice, louder than usual, attracted the attention of the other students. We were an unusual sight—two girls holding hands in the bicycle shed.

Xiaodie blushed, just like she had on our first day of school.

But she stood her ground, her voice trembling slightly as she continued.

“We wouldn’t have met if not for you, right? So don’t say your efforts were in vain. Don’t lose faith in the future. Think about the people who love you, you idiot!”

And then, before I could react, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me, her lips pressing softly against mine.

In front of everyone, she had kissed me.

It was a gentle kiss, fleeting but profound.

It felt like an eternity.

“Um…”

She pulled back, her face crimson.

“Yi Yao… did I… do something wrong?” she asked, her gaze darting nervously.

“No.”

I took her hand, ignoring the stunned stares of the other students.

“Maybe this is for the best.”

The crowd around us faded away, as if they had never been there.

No. 63 Even When All Else Changes

The butterfly effect was rippling through my world, distorting the future I remembered, transforming familiar faces into strangers.

Slowly, subtly, everything was changing.

The storm I had unleashed was sweeping through Upper Capital City and even Yixian Province. The premature loss of public trust had thrown the government into disarray. Protests and demonstrations erupted across the city, turning once-bustling streets into desolate wastelands.

Factories went on strike, employees resigned, prices soared, and the economy teetered on the brink of collapse.

The provincial government was forced to intervene, dispatching security forces to restore order and quell the unrest.

“It’s not your fault, Yi Yao. You did the right thing,” Xiaodie reassured me, her unwavering support a beacon in the storm.

In her eyes, I was her world.

Legally, Xiaodie, orphaned and without any relatives willing to care for her, should have been placed in an orphanage. But thanks to Ouyang Dati’s connections, my father had been appointed as her temporary guardian.

I wouldn’t have known any of this if not for my membership in the Queen Bee hacker alliance.

In my previous life, I had been too focused on my studies, opting to live in the school dorms and rarely returning home. And even when I did, I was either buried in books or helping my father care for my mother, oblivious to the world outside our small bubble.

The saying “Money makes men evil” held true in many situations.

The day after I gave my father the bank card, he informed the hospital that we were proceeding with the bone marrow transplant. My mother was moved to a sterile isolation ward, beginning the long and arduous preparation process.

My father had convinced me that, despite the risks, the surgery was our only hope. And deep down, I knew he was right.

Especially me, who had witnessed my mother’s death in another world.

I took a leave of absence from school, forfeiting the April monthly exams, and spent my days at the hospital, keeping vigil outside my mother’s ward. Xiaodie would join me after school, her infectious energy a welcome distraction from the somber atmosphere. True to her word, she possessed a multitude of personalities—tsundere, mischievous, childish—and she effortlessly brought a spark of joy to the sterile, depressing environment.

Even though death was a constant presence, the air thick with grief and despair.

The 200,000 yuan, combined with my father’s savings, still fell short of the total cost of the transplant. As I watched my father struggling to make ends meet, his shoulders slumping further with each passing day, Xiaodie stepped in, donating the remainder of her inheritance anonymously. The surgery was finally scheduled.

It was a harsh lesson in the realities of charity.

The day of the surgery arrived, but we were instructed to stay away, to give my mother the peace and quiet she needed to recover.

This meant that Xiaodie and I had to be even more frugal with our spending. Finding a way to earn money became a priority.

I could rely on my family for support, but Xiaodie had no one.

At sixteen, she was too young for most part-time jobs.

“But there are certain jobs where being young is an advantage!” she declared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She used her remaining allowance to purchase some cosplay outfits.

The material wasn’t the best quality, but as she explained, it was sufficient for photoshoots and dance videos.

“Some famous cosplayers earn a lot of money. They can make thousands just for showing up at events. But it’s a competitive field, and it’s not a long-term career.”

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, we found ourselves in a secluded park. I held the video camera Xiaodie had purchased, my face burning with embarrassment as I aimed it at her.

She was cosplaying as Shana from Shakugan no Shana, and she had come dressed in full costume.

I felt self-conscious even wearing a skirt and knee-high socks at home, let alone in public. But Xiaodie, without a hint of hesitation, had boarded the bus with me, wearing Shana’s signature frilly dress and thigh-highs.

We had been the center of attention throughout the journey.

Xiaodie was undeniably beautiful. Apart from her lack of… endowment, her features and figure were flawless.

At 160 cm, she was the ideal height for a girl, according to some. Her skin was smooth and clear, a testament to a privileged upbringing. Her legs, accentuated by the thigh-highs, were long and slender. With a touch of makeup, she was a vision, a living embodiment of anime beauty.

“Flat chests are a rare commodity these days. Don’t worry, it’s just another cute feature,” she declared, puffing out her nonexistent chest with mock pride.

“Are you ready, Yi Yao?”

She stood on a patch of grass, her expression serious, lacking the katana that was part of Shana’s signature look. We hadn’t been able to afford it.

“Wait, do you even know how to use that camera?”

“Of course.”

I checked the model, familiarized myself with the controls, and stepped back. “Go ahead.”

Our goal for the day was to have some fun, to get a feel for the world of cosplay. We planned to upload the photos to a blog, but we weren’t in a rush to promote ourselves. Money wasn’t an immediate concern.

She had simply put on the costume and applied some makeup, without any real plan or strategy. No concept, no budget, no marketing.

It wouldn’t be easy to make a name for ourselves this way.

I could edit the photos, add special effects, but I was clueless when it came to promotion. The saying “Good wine needs no bush” didn’t always apply. In certain fields, you had to be proactive, to market yourself, to grab attention.

“You’re making me jealous,” I said, snapping photos of her from various angles. Some of the shots were a bit risqué, revealing glimpses of her underwear. I felt a pang of possessiveness, even though these photos were meant for public consumption.

She was captivating, even without any editing.

The images on the camera screen were stunning. Xiaodie, dressed as Shana, posing against the backdrop of the park, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and determination.

She was like a fairy, ethereal and otherworldly.

She embodied everything beautiful and pure.

“Don’t worry, you’d look even better in a costume,” she said, her usual playful demeanor returning as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Pretty girls are popular online, but girls like you, with your cool androgynous vibe, are even more sought after. Trust me.”

“This feels like we’re selling ourselves for a living.”

“Hey, if all else fails, we can just treat it as a hobby. It’s something you never experienced in your past life, right? Wearing skirts, being a girl… Or maybe you secretly enjoy it?”

“Goodbye.”

“…”

Back at the apartment, I called my father to check on my mother. After a brief conversation, offering words of comfort and reassurance, I hung up.

“How is she?” Xiaodie asked, still in her costume.

“The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Her face fell. “But we have school tomorrow. And it’s the day they announce the monthly exam results.”

“My dad told me to focus on school. He’ll call me as soon as there’s any news.”

I tied on an apron and headed into the kitchen, carrying bags of groceries.

“You know, Yi Yao, sometimes I feel so lucky,” she said, wrapping her arms around me from behind. “You can cook, you clean, you’re caring, you’re knowledgeable, you’re kind… you were probably a total sweetheart in your past life.”

“Sweethearts always end up in the friend zone.”

“Pfft—” She burst out laughing, almost choking on her own spit. “You really know how to kill the mood!”

“Instead of flirting, why don’t you set up that blog?” I said, gesturing towards the camera.

“Oh, right! I almost forgot. Can I use your computer?”

“Since when do we differentiate between ‘yours’ and ‘mine’?” I teased. She had practically moved into my room.

“Don’t sweat the details. Hey, how about we name our blog ‘Dieyi’? A combination of our names!”

“Sounds weird.”

“I meant ‘wings,’ like butterfly wings.”

I paused, turning to look at her.

The setting sun cast a warm glow on her face, her skin a delicate shade of pink.

“Whatever you want.”

No. 62 Silence in the Dark

At eight in the evening, Xiaodie and I arrived at my apartment.

She hadn’t brought much with her. Her small suitcase contained only a few clothes and essentials. She hadn’t even bothered with a blanket or pillow, claiming that we would be sharing a bed anyway and that the weather was too warm for blankets.

To my surprise, my father was home, sitting alone in the living room, nursing a glass of liquor. He usually spent his evenings at the hospital, tending to my mother. He merely nodded in acknowledgment as we entered, his face etched with fatigue.

I had spoken to him earlier about letting Xiaodie stay with us until the high school entrance exams, promising to maintain my top ranking in class as a condition. He had reluctantly agreed, knowing Xiaodie’s situation, but hadn’t said much else.

It was clear that he was exhausted. My mother’s condition had been unstable recently, demanding his constant attention.

Blood transfusions were a constant struggle for leukemia patients. Blood banks were never fully stocked, especially in a city like Upper Capital City. Hospitals had strict regulations regarding blood usage. If a patient exceeded their allotted amount, family members or friends had to donate blood. Each donation only covered a single transfusion.

Donated blood had to be tested and processed before use. It wasn’t like in those TV dramas, where blood was transfused directly from donor to recipient. The blood my mother received came from strangers, not from her own family.

And that was the crux of the problem. How many relatives were willing to donate blood repeatedly?

Once or twice was manageable, but what about every few weeks, or even every few days? Imagine being asked to donate blood every month, with no compensation, for an indefinite period. How long would your goodwill last?

That was my father’s dilemma.

In my previous life, as a boy, my father still held some sway within the family. But even then, securing blood transfusions for my mother had been a constant battle. Now, as a girl, his burden was even heavier.

My mother’s immune system was weak. Her white blood cell and platelet counts were dangerously low. Even a common cold could land her in the hospital for weeks, requiring blood transfusions and constant monitoring. What if she had internal bleeding in the middle of the night? Where would he find a willing donor at such short notice?

My father might not have been a good man when it came to love and fidelity, but he was a devoted husband.

“Good evening, Uncle!”

Xiaodie, as promised, greeted him politely, bowing slightly. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m hardly ever home these days. It’s good for you and Yi Yao to have company.”

“Thank you, Uncle! We’ll be in our room now.”

“Go ahead.”

As Xiaodie disappeared into my room with her suitcase, my father beckoned me over.

His face, etched with worry and fatigue, was a mirror reflecting the weight of his burdens.

“What is it?”

I sat beside him, my gaze falling on the empty liquor bottles scattered across the table. I frowned. “Dad, I told you not to drink so much…”

“You know about your mother’s condition, right?” he said, ignoring my concern. He picked up an empty glass. “The doctors have told us that with conservative treatment, her chances of recovery are slim to none. And after all the blood transfusions, after all this time… A bone marrow transplant is our only option. But the success rate is only 20%.”

He was reciting the same script as in my memories.

“It’s just the three of us now. I wanted to hear your thoughts. If we go ahead with the transplant, we’ll have to sell the apartment to afford it. But if it works, it’ll give us some breathing room.”

His voice was heavy with exhaustion.

“But your mother is against it.”

“Yi Yao, what do you think?”

“I…”

I didn’t know what to say.

Despite hearing those words before, they pierced my heart like a thousand needles.

It was a cruel choice. I knew that if we didn’t do anything, my mother would die within a year. But the surgery was a gamble, a 20% chance at extending her life by a few years.

How could I possibly choose?

“I don’t know…” I mumbled, echoing my response from the other world. “I respect your decision, Dad.”

“Really? So… if I decide to go ahead with the surgery, you’ll support me?”

“What?”

His words stunned me.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. What had changed? Why was he suddenly considering the surgery?

The conversation had flowed exactly as I remembered. I had given the same answer. He should have sighed, said something like, “I see… well, I won’t keep you from your studies. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Good luck with your exams next week,” and then left me alone.

“Are we… are we going to sell the apartment?” I blurted out, my mind racing.

“We’ll see. If we have to, we’ll ask your uncle for a loan.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the sudden change of heart about the surgery?”

“What other choice do we have? Are you a doctor?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m saying… 20%… why take such a risk?”

“Didn’t you just say you respected my decision?”

I was speechless.

“That’s settled then. I’ll figure out the money.”

He waved me away dismissively and reached for another bottle.

I retreated to my room, tears welling up in my eyes. I grabbed a bank card and returned to the living room, placing it on the table in front of him.

“The PIN is 117758. There’s 200,000 yuan in there.”

“What…?” He stared at me, dumbfounded. “Where did you get this?”

“I won some money in the lottery. And I’ve been earning some on the side.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! That’s 200,000 yuan! What sixteen-year-old girl can make that kind of money?”

“I’ve told you all I’m going to tell you. The money is yours. Every cent is clean. How you use it is up to you.”

I returned to my room, my heart heavy, and closed the door.

Xiaodie, dressed in a floral sundress, looked at me with concern. “Has the future changed again?”

“Yes.” I sat on my bed, my head pounding. “I don’t understand. Why would he choose the surgery? Is the difference between a son and a daughter really that significant?”

“Do you have any theories?”

“None. I don’t even know what to do…”

“Relax, Yi Yao. Maybe this is a good thing for your mom. 20% is better than nothing.”

She sat beside me, her presence a source of comfort. She leaned in and kissed me gently on the cheek.

It was a simple gesture of affection, a reminder that I wasn’t alone.

I stroked her hair. “It’s all so sudden. It’s like unraveling a tangled ball of yarn without knowing where to start.”

“You’re trying to understand the cause and effect, right?”

“Yes. I thought I knew my family, but new things keep happening, and I’m starting to lose my grip on reality.”

“So, in your original timeline, your father chose conservative treatment. But in this world, he’s opting for surgery. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s analyze the differences between the two timelines. First, you’re a girl now, not a boy. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The key point is that the surgery is risky for your mother. It’s a gamble, right?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“So what could have motivated your father to make this decision? Think about what’s most important to him. What does he value above all else?”

“Honor? Reputation? No… In our family… it’s sons. I know that. But I don’t see the connection. Even if I’m not a boy, I’m still his daughter. Why would he risk my mother’s life?”

“I see…” Xiaodie’s eyes widened in realization. “One more question, Yi Yao. You said that after your mother died, your father quickly remarried. And that his new wife was someone he already knew, someone he was having an affair with. Is that right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. Yi Yao, who is the father of your stepmother’s son?”

I froze.

“You don’t know, do you? Your family is more complicated than you realize. What if… what if that boy is actually your father’s son? In a family that values sons above daughters, that would explain his actions. He might have hesitated if you were still a boy, but now… neither you nor your mother are as important as that son. Not if your father truly believes in the superiority of males.”

“Yi Yao, you might know the future of this city, of this world, but when it comes to your family, you’re still in the dark. If I’m not mistaken, your uncle might be the one pulling the strings.”

“Family?” I whispered, my mind reeling from the implications.

“Yes, family.”

Xiaodie sprawled on my bed, her skirt riding up, oblivious to her exposed legs. “I used to think that the world of anime was my true home. A place where I could escape the complexities of reality, the betrayals, the manipulations. Every anime world was a shining beacon of hope and dreams.”

“And now?”

“Now?”

She raised her hands, forming a heart shape in the air. “Now we’re both lost.”

No. 61 Echoes From Parallel Dimensions

The relentless rain washed over the city, a somber backdrop to our weary journey. After a tiring lunch break spent fending off those delinquents, Xiaodie and I boarded the crowded bus that would take us to her house.

The weather forecast had promised a break in the rain, but the sky remained a gloomy gray, as if the world were about to be swallowed by the relentless downpour.

Fortunately, we managed to snag two empty seats at the back of the bus.

Traffic in Upper Capital City was a constant headache, with frequent gridlocks and delays. It was a cruel irony that the bus you needed would always seem to arrive in droves when you weren’t waiting for it, only to vanish into thin air the moment you actually needed to board.

To make matters worse, some of the busier intersections lacked traffic lights. On rainy days, when the traffic police were off duty, the roads descended into chaos.

“Yi Yao, are you… disappointed in society?” Xiaodie asked softly, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the engine.

I turned to her, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”

“You told me about your past life, about your family…”

“People are what they are. There’s no point in being disappointed.”

“But you must have been lonely… Living alone in that empty apartment, with no family, no one to love…”

“So you’d rather I be penniless, sharing a cramped apartment with strangers, at the mercy of a tyrannical landlord?”

Compared to those who were still struggling to make ends meet in their thirties and forties, I had been quite successful in my previous life, both financially and professionally.

But as they say, you can’t take it with you when you die.

“That’s not what I meant… I just… don’t you have any… dreams? Aspirations?”

“Like what?”

“Things you wanted to do as a child but never got around to.”

I thought for a moment, a wry smile touching my lips. “My parents always told me to study hard, to be a good person. But when I tried to follow their advice, I realized I wasn’t very good at fitting in. Luckily, I had good grades, so I could at least find a decent job. I didn’t have any grand dreams, really. I just… existed. I didn’t even know what I wanted out of life.”

“What about this time?”

“You believe me?”

“I do. I believe everything you say, Yi Yao.”

“This time… I want to fulfill her wishes.”

“Her wishes? What are they?”

“She wanted me to listen to my parents, to get into a good university.”

“But wouldn’t that mean living the same life as your past self?”

“We’re essentially the same person, just different genders.”

Same family, same name, same habits, same interests. The only difference was our personalities, shaped by our vastly different experiences.

“I understand…” She took my hands, her gaze unwavering. “Your past self changed you. Now let me change you.”

“Huh?”

“You know what’s going to happen in this city, right?”

“Yes…”

“And you watch anime, so you’re not averse to that world. So, from today onwards, let’s embrace the world of anime! We can learn to dance, stream online, draw, write, cosplay…”

“Wait, why are you suddenly suggesting all this?”

“Because I don’t want you to repeat the mistakes of your past. I want you to experience new things, to live a different life.”

Her words struck a chord.

She was right.

Despite the unexpected turn of events, I had been unconsciously retracing the steps of my past life.

Studying diligently, attending classes, worrying about my parents.

Even in the hacker world, I had gravitated towards the familiar, joining the Queen Bee alliance.

Was I… afraid?

“Hey! I swiped my card! Are you deaf?”

A woman’s voice, shrill and indignant, cut through our conversation. The bus driver was arguing with a passenger.

“What about that man? Isn’t he your husband?” the driver retorted, refusing to budge.

“How should I know who that man is? It’s just me and my daughter! Don’t you dare accuse me of anything!”

“You were clearly with him.”

“You’re the one who’s with him! My husband’s at work! What’s your complaint number? I’m reporting you!”

Apparently, the woman had swiped her card twice, once for herself and once for her daughter. The driver, assuming there were three passengers, demanded she pay the remaining fare. The woman, understandably offended, had taken it as an accusation of fare evasion.

“Show me the man who didn’t pay! I only know my daughter!” she spat, marching down the aisle, her young daughter clinging to her side.

“Whoever didn’t pay, come forward and insert your coin!”

The driver, his pride wounded, stormed down the aisle.

“The man, around forty years old. Come forward and pay! You’re wasting everyone’s time!”

The passengers exchanged nervous glances, but no one stepped forward.

The bus was packed, and there were at least seven or eight men who fit the description. The driver, however, seemed unable to identify the culprit.

He stood in the aisle, refusing to move.

“Come on, who is it?”

“Yeah, it’s just one yuan. Just pay and let’s go!”

“I need to go home and cook dinner for my kids!”

The passengers grew increasingly agitated, but no one confessed.

“People get so irritable on rainy days,” Xiaodie observed, watching the scene unfold.

She pulled out a yuan from her pocket, walked up to the driver, and dropped it into the fare box. She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “I don’t know who it was, but here’s a yuan. Now please drive! Everyone wants to go home!”

The driver, his face flushing red, could hardly scold a young girl in front of a bus full of people. He grumbled something under his breath and returned to his seat, starting the engine.

“How did I do, Yi Yao?” she asked, beaming, drawing the attention of the other passengers.

They probably couldn’t imagine that this cheerful, helpful girl had just lost her father.

She was strong, even in the face of tragedy.

She was kind, just like the mayor had said.

“You did great,” I said, my heart swelling with pride. I swallowed the words I had been about to say.

This girl… I would protect her.

The tension on the bus dissipated as we continued our journey. Xiaodie and I chatted about anime, the familiar topic a welcome distraction from the weight of our burdens.

We reached our stop, a short walk from her villa.

I was staying the night, helping her pack her belongings and move into my apartment.

She had suggested skipping the packing altogether, claiming that, as girls, we could share clothes. I had vetoed the idea.

I couldn’t imagine her reaction to my meager wardrobe.

We weren’t wealthy. My father rarely bought me new clothes.

“Hey, Yi Yao, you said your dad is going to remarry a year from now, right?” she asked as we packed her belongings.

“Yes, what about it?”

“She has a son, and after your father dies, they’ll take all your money and leave you with nothing, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you hate them?”

“…”

“Have you thought about what you’ll do if it happens again? Now that you know the outcome?”

I shook my head, unsure where she was going with this.

My relationship with my stepmother and her son had been strained, to say the least.

“You’ve experienced loss, Yi Yao. And you know that the deeper the bond, the more painful the separation.”

“What does that have to do with my stepmother?”

“Well… if you want revenge, I have a suggestion.”

“Revenge? Against the woman who seduced my father and her son?” I frowned. “I doubt anything I do would make a difference.”

“You’re so naive, Yi Yao.”

She tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Who says revenge has to be physical or material?”

“What do you mean?”

“Make her son fall in love with you. He calls himself your brother, right? Be the best sister in the world.”

She folded a dress and placed it in the suitcase. “Of course, maintain your distance from your stepmother. That way, when they eventually leave, he’ll be devastated. He might even fight with his mother. That’s when you strike, using his mother’s actions to make him doubt her, to make him feel betrayed. If you play your cards right, you can drive a wedge between them.”

Her words startled me. I almost dropped my phone.

“Xiaodie…”

“What?”

“That’s… brilliant.”

“You’re learning fast, Yi Yao…”

No. 60 Even Roses Wither

Returning to the classroom, I found Xiaodie fast asleep, her earlier jealousy forgotten.

Her face, pale and serene, rested on her folded arms, her black knee-high socks dangling beneath the desk. The sight of her sleeping so peacefully amidst the dreary weather tugged at my heartstrings.

So much for being worried about me getting snatched away by some random boy.

I gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead and took out my textbook.

I had already mastered most of the middle school curriculum. Getting into Municipal High School No. 1 or No. 5 would be a breeze. Even in high school, I would only need to skim through the material and review the exam papers to keep up with my classmates. Academically, I had nothing to worry about.

The pressure of the college entrance exams stemmed mainly from financial concerns. If, during the exam, a police officer suddenly burst in and announced that your parents had died in a car accident, leaving you an inheritance of a hundred million yuan, I doubt anyone would care about choosing the correct grammatical particle. They’d probably throw down their pens and walk out, shouting, “Screw this, I’m rich!”

But such things didn’t happen in real life. So most of us had to endure the pressure, the endless cycle of studying and exams.

Only the poor dreamed of changing their fate. Only the weak yearned for strength.

I was an anomaly. My worries were of a different nature.

My mother’s illness, my father’s impending betrayal.

I understood his situation. He was struggling to support our family on his meager income from the fruit stand. Now, with my mother’s medical bills piling up, he was stretched thin, working long hours at the shop, visiting the hospital, caring for her. He had no time for himself, no respite from the constant worry and exhaustion. Sometimes, he was woken up in the middle of the night by emergency calls. It was taking a toll on him.

But what bothered me was his silence.

He hadn’t told me.

He hadn’t told the future me.

I had died in that other world, believing that my stepmother was someone my father had met online after my mother’s death. I had tried so hard to bond with her, with her son, unaware of the truth.

Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. I would just have to wait and see how things played out.

The morning passed in a blur of classes and studying.

Our monthly exams were scheduled for next Wednesday.

“Mmm… is it over?”

Xiaodie stirred awake, rubbing her eyes. She had slept through the entire morning, a first for her. “How are you so energetic, Yi Yao?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Because it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced the simple joys of being a student.

“Let’s grab some lunch.”

I gathered my books and pulled her along, ignoring her question.

If there was one thing our school was known for, it was its lax rules.

Due to a long-standing dispute with a property developer, the school cafeteria wasn’t run by the school itself. This had led to a relaxed policy regarding meals. Students were allowed to leave campus during breakfast, lunch, and dinner breaks. At lunchtime, a wave of hungry teenagers would flood the nearby food street, transforming it into a bustling, aromatic haven.

This policy had also been a boon for the surrounding businesses, with clothing stores and cafes thriving alongside the food stalls.

“Did you bring an umbrella, Yi Yao?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t need mine!”

She happily shoved her floral umbrella back into her bag and linked her arm with mine. “What did you say to that rich boy who confessed to you?”

“I told him I wasn’t interested in boys.”

We stepped outside, the rain creating a shimmering curtain over the school grounds. The sight, strangely enough, lifted my spirits.

Yes… to be here, to have a second chance at life, to be surrounded by so much potential… I was truly blessed.

“Xiaodie, why don’t you move in with us?” I said casually, as we walked along the wet, cobblestone path.

She was about my height, maybe a centimeter or two shorter. Sharing an umbrella wasn’t awkward.

“Oh? Are you finally making a move on me?”

She turned to me, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Would that be considered leading a lamb to the slaughter?”

“What are you talking about?” I lightly smacked her head. “I’m serious. Your house is too far from school. It’s manageable now, but once you start attending No. 1, it’ll be a nightmare. Waking up at 5 AM every day will take a toll on your health.”

“But… what if I move in with you? Will you do bad things to me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I glanced at her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “So you want me to do bad things to you?”

“Of course! I’ve been waiting for you to make a move! We’ve even slept in the same bed…”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Ugh… we’re dating, but you’re still so distant.”

“I never knew you had such a devious side.”

“My personality is fluid. I can be a tsundere loli if you prefer. Or maybe you’re into yanderes?”

I chuckled, stroking her hair. “Let’s focus on getting our lives in order first. We can revisit that topic later.”

Outside the school gates, a quiet street stretched before us. A narrow alley branched off to the west, leading to the bustling food street.

Across the street, a row of cafes and teahouses offered refuge from the rain. Some were open to the public, providing a place for students who lived far away to rest during their lunch break.

“Yi Yao… I know this must be hard for you,” Xiaodie said as we entered the alley.

“What do you mean?”

“Because… you said your mother is going to die a year from now. She has a terminal illness. She might still be clinging to hope, but you… you already know the outcome.”

I fell silent.

She was right. Witnessing my mother’s death had left an indelible mark on my soul. The pain of knowing, of being powerless to change the inevitable…

“Is there nothing we can do?”

I shook my head. “Her illness is not like acute leukemia, which can be treated with a bone marrow transplant. Even then, the success rate is only around 20%. And even if it’s successful, they only consider it a permanent cure if there’s no relapse within five years. So if it comes back in the sixth year, or if there are complications, they’ll just tell you to get another transplant or leave it to fate.”

Transplant surgery wasn’t a miracle cure. Take kidney transplants, for example. They were risky, and even if successful, the patient had to take immunosuppressants for the rest of their life, weakening their immune system and making them vulnerable to infections. The transplanted organ also had a limited lifespan, merely prolonging life, not guaranteeing a cure.

And both options were incredibly expensive. When it came to medicine, money could buy you health, and it could buy you time.

It was a harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless.

If you couldn’t afford it, all you could do was live a healthy lifestyle and hope for the best.

“I see…” She hugged my arm tightly. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you.”

“Just try to be a little more obedient, and I’ll be happy.”

Her bad habits—sleeping late, skipping meals, being picky about food—would take a while to break.

As we walked, I noticed a group of men approaching us, their expressions hostile. I pulled Xiaodie closer, my senses on high alert. “Stay close. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Upper Capital City, before 2017, was a dangerous place.

Before Huang Tianhai’s return and his subsequent crackdown on crime, the city was riddled with lawlessness—robberies, gang fights, reckless driving. Certain areas were practically no-go zones after dark.

The men fanned out, surrounding us.

Other students, sensing trouble, quickly turned and fled.

It was a scene I had witnessed before, in my other life.

After graduating, while searching for a job in another city, I had been mugged in broad daylight. People had watched, but no one intervened. They had simply walked past, pretending not to notice.

When faced with danger, our instinct is to flee. It’s a natural response.

“Wait,” I said, as Xiaodie reached for the gun concealed beneath her skirt. “Let’s see what they want.”

“But there are so many of them! Is your school always this chaotic?”

Several men had already blocked our path.

“Well, well, well. Look at this pretty little thing. Got any cash on you? We’re a bit short lately.”

One, two, three, four, five… There were at least seven or eight of them, their confident swagger suggesting they were seasoned criminals, not just petty thugs.

But if they were just ordinary delinquents, we could handle them…