When she heard the clan deity say this, Luo Yuan had a moment when she wanted to say, “Please save me!” or put forward some other, greedier request. But in the end, she restrained her greed, and also restrained the desire to keep living.
Her own death had already been decided before she prepared to kill Ma Junmao. When she killed someone for the first time—killed those three people—she had thought that after these four people died, she would also die.
Hurting others always required paying a price. She felt that it was so for them, and so it should be for her as well.
The first person she killed was named Duan Leyan, an entrepreneur. At the time, she had almost collapsed from her sister’s death. In order to get close to those four murderers, she quit her job and became a nanny, going through all kinds of trouble to finally be hired. In the Duan household, she worked as a nanny mainly responsible for taking care of Duan Leyan’s daughter, a little girl of over four years old named Meili.
Duan Leyan had a wife who worked in the arts—gentle, cultivated, and beautiful—and a lively, adorable little daughter. When he was at home he was completely a loving father who doted on his child, a caring husband who cared for his wife, a polished and successful entrepreneur.
How could someone like that, outside his family, do something so terrifying? Luo Yuan couldn’t figure it out. She kept hesitating, not knowing how to ask Duan Leyan about this matter. At first she only wanted to understand what exactly these people had done, whether they felt even the slightest shred of guilt for her sister’s death. She only wanted an explanation.
That day, Duan Leyan came home drunk and rested alone on the study sofa. The driver supported him in; he couldn’t even walk steadily. Luo Yuan felt this was an opportunity, so she quietly entered the study.
She asked this successful man about her sister. He sat in the chair with a look of disgust and impatience, cutting her off: “Your sister died, and it has nothing to do with me. I only slept with her once. Didn’t you come here just to get money? How much do you want?”
Luo Yuan stood there, hearing her own voice float out, “Yujing… when my sister died, she hadn’t even turned seventeen.”
“You have a daughter yourself. When you did that kind of thing, did you ever think of your own daughter?”
Duan Leyan’s expression changed drastically. He struggled up from the sofa and shouted at her, “Get out! If you keep spouting nonsense I’ll call security! Your sister committed suicide, it has nothing to do with me. You can go find a lawyer, go ahead and sue me, but I’m telling you—it’s useless!”
Listening to these words, looking at the disdainful sneer on his face, Luo Yuan was suddenly enraged. She grabbed the scissors she had on her and rushed forward, stabbing the scissors into the man’s throat.
His arrogant, disdainful expression froze. She pulled herself out of her anger, somewhat numbly pulled out the scissors, and saw blood spurt out, soaking through his clothes and wetting the sofa.
She was still immersed in the dazed shock of killing when the study door was suddenly opened. Duan Leyan’s four-year-old daughter had woken from her nap. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at her and called out, “An’an.”
She didn’t see, on the sofa with its back toward her, her father’s convulsions before death, nor the chaotic bloodstains. Luo Yuan instinctively hid her blood-stained hands and the scissors behind her back, showing a smile, gently saying to the child, “Li Zi, you woke from your nap? Go wash your face first, then wait for me downstairs. An’an will get you a pudding ice cream, all right?”
The child let out a cheer—pudding ice cream was her favorite—and blew her a cute kiss, then obediently ran off. “An’an~ I’ll wait for you~ You have to come quickly~”
“All right, I’ll be right there.”
Luo Yuan washed the blood from her hands, looked for a while at the corpse on the study sofa, took out his phone, and in his contacts found those three people. She sent them messages one by one, asking them to come to the house now.
Then she went downstairs and brought pudding ice cream to Meili, who was sitting there obediently waiting. She cut fruit for her and talked with her. Although she hadn’t taken care of her for long, Meili already liked her very much, clinging to her even more than to her mother. Whatever she did, Meili followed her around. She was a very adorable child.
Looking at her radiant smile always reminded Luo Yuan of her sister when she was little, and her heart hurt so much she couldn’t breathe—from pain for her sister, and pain for this child.
She knew very clearly that everything she was doing would cause this child’s future life to undergo earth-shaking changes. Yet she could still hold this child, and with the hand that had killed her father, gently stroke the child’s head.
Of the three people she contacted, only two came. Luo Yuan couldn’t wait any longer. When Madam Duan returned, Duan Leyan’s corpse would definitely be discovered quickly. Keeping an extremely calm demeanor, she served those two people drinks she had laced and told them to wait a moment, saying that Duan Leshan was in the study dealing with something. The two were completely unsuspecting. They even teased Meili for a while, laughing at her childish chatter.
Luo Yuan stood to the side. She didn’t know why she was able to maintain such an ordinary smile. Her hands didn’t shake at all, and her expression wasn’t flustered. After that, she sent Meili to her room, put on a cartoon for her, and locked the door to prevent her from coming out midway and seeing something she shouldn’t see. Finally, she went to the kitchen to get a knife.
───♡───
The scene covered in blood was truly like hell itself. By the time she regained her senses, everything around her was already a complete mess.
Madam Duan, who had returned early, was shaken by the sight. She froze for quite a long moment before she screamed and ran out. Luo Yuan instinctively wanted to chase her, but after taking just two steps, she stopped. After that came her arrest, and without any doubt, the death sentence.
Later, she saw Meili once more. The child sat beside her mother. The eyes that were once filled with sunlight and stars were now pouring with endless rain. She clutched her mother’s arm tightly. When she glanced at her, she immediately pursed her lips and lowered her head.
Luo Yuan did not regret killing. She felt no guilt toward the four people she had killed. But toward Meili, she felt very guilty. She had hurt that little girl who would hold her face in her hands, pout, and call her An’an in a spoiled, sweet voice.
Hurting others meant paying the price. She too would eventually pay the price.
Now everything was over.
Younger sister, my dear younger sister, your sister truly hopes you may rest in peace.
───♡───
Yubei District, late at night.
At this hour, there were usually still many vehicles passing along Sujiang Avenue, and not far away by the Sujiang River there would still be pedestrians. But tonight, for some unknown reason, this area was sealed off. Neither vehicles nor pedestrians were allowed inside. Yet the street was not empty. On the contrary, on this open, spacious avenue was a long procession, as if an ancient wedding entourage. Some played cheerful wedding music, and some carried a sedan chair.
However, there was none of the noisy clamor of onlookers—only that cheerful wedding music spreading far into the late-night street, carrying an inexplicably eerie undertone that made the listeners’ skin crawl. The sedan chair in the middle was exquisite and ornate, yet extremely small; no person could sit inside. Looking through the curtain, there was only a small porcelain-white jar inside.
This long procession of many people all wore red clothing, with white cloth tied at their waists. At the back of the long line followed a silent row of vehicles. The guests sitting inside these cars were going to attend the wedding feast. Everyone wore black suits and dresses, with white flowers pinned to their chests or hair.
Passing along Sujiang Avenue, the procession slowly entered the remote Mountain Road Street, and finally entered a forest. Beyond this forest lay the mysterious old Qin ancestral residence. The Qin clan had lived here for thousands of years. Today, their descendants were numerous and spread across various districts, and this place had become the Qin ancestral home—the site of their ancestral hall.
Every year, only during the first month of the lunar year did some Qin clansmen receive permission to visit the old residence. But today, its gates were wide open, unprecedentedly lively.
From the mountain path within the forest, red lanterns lined both sides of the road, like a winding fire dragon coiling through the mountains. On this usually deserted mountain path, all kinds of luxury cars were stuck in a slow-moving jam, yet no one urged them forward.
After passing through countless red-pillared archways and entering the old residence grounds, the crowd grew larger, and finally the atmosphere resembled that of a bustling wedding celebration. The respected clan elders of the Qin family and the usually scattered, busy Qin clansmen were all present. Everyone wore smiles, clinking their cups and chatting quietly.
The vast, usually cold and silent ancient residence was now brightly lit. Much of its ancient, eerie air was dispersed. Young Qin clansmen who had never had the chance to visit curiously explored the old residence, occasionally guessing what the innermost shrine where the clan deity was enshrined might look like.
This was an unusual wedding feast, hosted by the shinu and the clan elders, with no appearance from the two newlyweds. They carried out a rather elaborate ritual on their own, sending the white porcelain jar brought by the wedding sedan into the highest place of the ancestral hall, then placing before it a memorial tablet with a black base and red characters.
Once the grand ceremony concluded, it was already nearing three in the morning. The elderly clan elders were somewhat drowsy, sitting in the resting room drinking tea.
A thin, elderly man held his tea and sighed, “After so many years, I didn’t expect to see the clan deity take a wife in my lifetime.”
“Exactly. Among so many generations of the Qin clan, ours must be the most special,” another old man said with a cheerful smile.
“It’s just… how did the clan deity suddenly decide on a wife? It’s far too sudden. When I heard the shinu mention the clan deity ordering preparations for a wedding, I was so startled I almost went to meet the ancestors early.”
“It really was too sudden. I don’t even know what kind of person the clan deity chose, nor when we’ll be able to see.”
“He can choose whoever he wants. Do you think you’re talking about your own descendants marrying? Wake up. Once the clan deity has taken a wife, that person is also our ancestor. In terms of seniority, everyone will have to kowtow when meeting her.”
“Aiyah, what are you getting worked up for? We all understand that. We’re just curious. Look at the Zhang, Han, and Wei clans… the clan deitys of their families chose someone long ago. Only our old ancestor has been silent for thousands of years. Now there’s suddenly movement—how could we not be curious?”
It wasn’t only the clan elders. The young people still active at the wedding feast outside were even more curious. A few bold ones, after drinking a little, even wanted to sneak toward the shrine to take a look.
“Isn’t teasing the bridegroom a traditional custom? Today is the great wedding day of the clan deity. He probably won’t take action, right?”
“Right, right, if we talk seniority, we’re all just grandsons. The clan deity shouldn’t bother with us. What’s there to be afraid of!”
Unfortunately, before these drunken troublemakers even left the wedding courtyard, they were carried back by the dutiful bodyguards and were scolded by two shinu whose faces were set in stern lines.
Inside the quietest shrine of the entire courtyard, the curtains had been changed to red, arranged like a wedding hall. There was no one inside. Only curling incense smoke rose, and on the divine altar, the life-sized porcelain statue of the deity was covered with a layer of red cloth.
───♡───
Luo Yuan heard the lively wedding music. The cheerful sound was getting closer and closer. She had been wandering in a daze by the riverbank. The pitch-black river water had unknowingly risen past half her body, gradually making her forget many things as she numbly walked toward the deeper water. Deep inside, she knew she should keep walking forward, leaving behind all the troubles of this world.
But that wedding music disturbed her, like a thread tugging at her spirit. Luo Yuan sobered slightly, and suddenly saw many red camellias appearing on the surface of the river—one after another—floating down from upstream. She followed the path formed by the red camellias, walking upstream until she reached a bank, where the wedding sedan that had long been waiting carried her away.
The wedding sedan swayed gently, as if stepping on clouds. She felt as if she had been traveling for a very, very long time. In her trance, the music and everything around her faded away, and she arrived in a very quiet place. Looking down, she saw that her clothing had turned into an elaborate red wedding dress, and in her hands she held a small white porcelain jar.
This… what exactly is going on? Didn’t I die? Luo Yuan still felt utterly bewildered.
A faint glimmer of light appeared in the darkness, revealing a divine altar she was very familiar with, and on the altar, a divine statue. The statue, with a crack down its surface, bore its painted, unchanging expression and quietly gazed at her.
