“What the hell is going on? What exactly is this situation!”
She barely made it through the rest of breakfast before bolting upstairs like she was escaping.
She pushed open the bedroom door, dashed inside, then spun around and glared at Ruan Yuan, who had followed her in.
“Tonight I’m not letting you hug me to sleep again!”
Linlin’s voice still carried the frustration she had bottled up earlier.
“You can sleep by yourself, you big jerk!”
Ruan Yuan strolled in at a leisurely pace.
When she heard this, she simply let out a casual “Oh.”
That tone, that expression — it was like she was saying, “Got it. And?”
Linlin got even angrier.
“What do you mean ‘oh’! I said you’re not allowed to hug me to sleep tonight!”
After she finished speaking, she felt a little strange herself.
Logically, she shouldn’t care that much about Ruan Yuan’s reaction.
If Ruan Yuan didn’t hug her, wouldn’t that be better?
So why did that indifferent attitude make her feel a little unhappy?
Ruan Yuan tilted her head and looked at her, seeming a little puzzled.
“But didn’t Linlin promise Mom you’d sleep with her tonight?”
She paused, then her tone suddenly shifted.
Her eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth curved up, and that familiar wicked smile returned.
“Or could it be~” she dragged out the end of the word.
“Linlin actually wanted to sleep with me, but after I brushed it off, she got upset?”
“Mm-hmm~”
That “mm-hmm” was so infuriatingly smug that Linlin’s face flushed bright red.
“N-No I didn’t!”
She shouted, then turned, yanked the door open, and ran out.
The door closed behind her, but she could still hear Ruan Yuan’s voice drifting out from inside.
“Linlin is so cute~”
Linlin’s steps faltered.
Her face grew even redder, but she kept running.
After saying “Linlin is so cute~”, the wicked smile on Ruan Yuan’s face vanished instantly.
“Everything’s going very smoothly…”
Linlin ran downstairs, crossed the living room, and only stopped when she reached the door to Mom’s bedroom.
She caught her breath, then knocked.
“Mom?”
“Come in.”
Luo Li’s voice came from inside.
Linlin pushed the door open.
Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding something in her hands.
When she saw Linlin, she smiled and waved her over.
“Linlin, come here. Sit.”
Linlin walked over and sat down beside her.
She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
“Mom… I kind of want to see photos of myself as a kid.”
She paused.
“I looked everywhere yesterday but couldn’t find any.”
Luo Li looked at her, her gaze a little complicated, but she quickly smiled.
“Photos of Linlin when you were little? I put them all away.”
She stood up, walked to the wardrobe, and opened the cabinet door.
Deep inside was a safe.
Luo Li crouched down, entered the code, and with a soft click the safe opened.
Inside were some pieces of jewelry and a thick photo album.
Luo Li took out the album and handed it to Linlin.
“Here.”
Linlin took it.
It felt heavy in her hands.
She was about to open it when Luo Li sat back down on the bed and patted her lap.
“Linlin, come here. Sit in Mom’s lap and we’ll look together.”
Linlin was stunned.
Sit in Mom’s lap?
She glanced at Mom, then at the album.
After hesitating for two seconds, she walked over and carefully settled onto Luo Li’s lap.
Luo Li wrapped her arms around her from behind, hands resting over Linlin’s small belly, chin on her shoulder, eyes fixed on the album in Linlin’s lap.
It was warm.
Linlin felt a little unused to it, but for some reason it also felt strangely comforting.
She opened the album.
The first page showed her as a baby — tiny, wrinkled, wrapped in a pink blanket.
Then she grew older, one year, two years, three…
With every page she turned, Linlin felt Mom’s arms around her tighten just a little.
When she reached around seven or eight years old, she suddenly stopped.
This photo had more than just her in it.
A black-haired little girl stood beside her under a tree.
The two of them were holding hands and smiling brightly.
Linlin stared at the black-haired girl for several seconds.
The face was young, but the outline, the eyes — she recognized her.
It was Xiran.
She flipped a few more pages.
There she was again: the two of them playing on a slide together.
Eating together.
Lying on a bed reading together.
All the way up to when she was eleven.
It was a group photo — she and Xiran standing shoulder to shoulder, both in school uniforms.
Was that their elementary school entrance photo?
Linlin stared at the picture, her mind spinning.
So she and Xiran had known each other since they were little?
They were… childhood friends?
She flipped further.
Nothing.
After that, Xiran’s photos disappeared completely.
It was as if the girl had suddenly vanished from her life.
Linlin stared at the eleven-year-old photo, her thoughts racing.
If they had been childhood friends, why did Xiran treat her like that?
Why play that “bully game”?
Why control her, hurt her, possess her?
When they were little… they had looked so happy together.
In the photos, both girls were smiling so brightly.
What had happened back then?
What exactly had happened when she was eleven?
She looked up at Mom.
“Mom, do you know this girl?”
She pointed at Xiran in the photo.
Luo Li looked at the picture and stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Then she spoke, her voice soft.
“Linlin doesn’t remember? You two played together so well when you were little.”
She paused.
“But…”
“But what?”
Linlin pressed.
Luo Li looked at her, hesitation in her eyes, but she still answered.
“She’s the daughter of one of Mom’s friends. Her name is Xiran.”
“Her whole family… for some reason, died overnight.”
Linlin froze.
All of them died?
“Then she disappeared too.”
Luo Li said.
“After all these years, Mom still doesn’t know where she went.”
Linlin’s mind buzzed.
Xiran’s entire family had died?
Overnight?
She suddenly remembered what Ruan Yuan had said earlier — that the original “Bai Linlin” had been a scumbag, a villainess.
Could it be…
No, this Bai Linlin and the one here weren’t the same person.
What was she thinking?
But Xiran had only been an eleven-year-old girl back then.
What could she have done?
Linlin grew anxious.
She needed to know more.
“Mom, can you tell me about it?”
She stared at Luo Li, eyes serious.
“About Xiran. About what happened to her family.”
Luo Li looked at her and stayed silent for a long time.
Then she sighed.
“Linlin really wants to know?”
“Mm.”
Luo Li thought for a moment and began to speak.
But what she told was a softened, edited version.
“Were her family members not good to Xiran’s mom?” Linlin asked.
Luo Li was quiet for a second.
“…Mm.”
She didn’t say “domestic violence.”
She didn’t say “heavy preference for sons.”
She didn’t mention the darker details.
She only said “not good.”
Linlin could tell Mom was hiding something, but she didn’t press.
She simply pieced the fragments together in her mind.
Xiran’s whole family had died, then Xiran disappeared, and later she reappeared like this.
And the eleven-year-old “Bai Linlin” had been Xiran’s childhood friend.
What had happened that year?
Had she done something?
Or had Xiran?
As Linlin thought, a sudden idea flashed through her mind.
She had seen this kind of twisted trope in plenty of dark stories.
If someone hated their own origins, hated their own bloodline, they would punish themselves in all kinds of ways.
Being bullied was one form of punishment.
Xiran was making herself “be bullied.”
She made herself get “bullied” by “Bai Linlin” every day.
She enjoyed that feeling of “being hurt.”
Not because she was a masochist, but because she felt she deserved punishment.
Because her bloodline was “disgusting.”
Because she came from that family that practiced domestic violence and heavy son preference, the family that had all died in the end.
Linlin felt like she had grasped something, but it still wasn’t enough.
She was missing one final, crucial piece.
What exactly was the root of Xiran’s obsession with her?
If it was only “I need someone to bully me,” anyone would do.
Why did it have to be her?
Why did it have to be “Bai Linlin”?
That eleven-year-old photo had to be the key.
What exactly had she done to Xiran during that time?
Had she said something?
Had she done something?
The more Linlin thought, the more frustrated she became.
The truth was so close — just a tiny bit more.
But that tiny bit was the thread tying everything together.
It was the most important foreshadowing for the entire game.
And only two people knew it.
Xiran.
And the eleven-year-old version of herself.
But right now, she didn’t have those memories.
Should she go ask Xiran?
She remembered what had happened the last time she asked Xiran about “your past.”
Her body began to tremble slightly.
That chill crawled up her spine again.
Linlin took a deep breath and pushed those images down.
She couldn’t ask.
She stared at the smiling black-haired little girl in the photo and whispered softly.
“Xiran… what exactly are you thinking…”