My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

Jiang Ran's consciousness lingered in the darkness for an unknown period of time.

She could sense faint sounds from the outside world: the ticking of the monitor, the occasional footsteps passing by in the corridor, and that unfamiliar voice whispering something in her ear over and over again.

She couldn't hear what the voice was saying, but she felt that the voice was very gentle, yet it also made her inexplicably irritable.

She didn't need that voice; she only needed her sister's voice.

But her sister's voice never came again. Instead, there was endless darkness and fragmented images flashing back in the darkness... rain, blood, her sister's pale face, and the faint curve of her lips.

She reached out to touch the scene, but as soon as her fingertips touched the cold rain, she felt as if an invisible hand had suddenly pulled her into deeper darkness.

When she could see clearly again, she found herself standing in front of a rusty iron gate.

The gate was very, very tall, several heads taller than her, and through the gaps in the iron bars, one could see the hazy sky and a few low, dilapidated buildings.

The air was filled with a damp, musty smell, mixed with a fishy odor that she couldn't quite identify.

She looked down at herself; she was still wearing the blood-stained dress, and her feet were still bare, but she didn't feel any pain as she stepped on the rough cement.

  

She was somewhat bewildered, not knowing why she had come here or what this place was.

Then she heard a sound coming from around the corner of that gray building not far away—the dull thud of a fist hitting someone, mixed with the sharp laughter and curses of children.

Her feet followed the sound involuntarily, and after turning the corner, she saw an open space.

A group of children, the older ones around ten years old and the younger ones around seven or eight, were standing in a circle, punching and kicking the person curled up on the ground in the middle.

It was a thin, small child wearing an old T-shirt so faded from washing that its original color was no longer recognizable. His hair was rather long and messy, plastered to his pale cheeks.

His back was hunched over like a shrimp, his arms tightly wrapped around his head, his face buried between his knees, silently enduring all the punches and kicks that landed on him.

His arms were covered in bruises, old wounds piled on top of new ones, and fresh blood seeped through several holes in his ill-fitting old T-shirt.

The moment Jiang Ran saw his face, her heart clenched.

Without thinking, she rushed forward, reaching out to push the children away and stand in front of that small, huddled figure.

But her hand passed through the children's bodies as if passing through a wisp of air.

She froze, looking down at her hand. It was still pale and slender, with bloodstains still clinging to its fingertips, but it couldn't grasp or touch anything.

"You're all unwanted bastards. Don't think that just because you look like a girl, anyone will adopt you." The leader, a tall and fat boy, kicked the curled-up figure hard in the back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Several children around him started laughing and spitting on him, poking his shoulder with a stick, and swearing at him.

Jiang Ran heard every word clearly, but each word seemed to come from a very, very far place, separated by a thick layer of water.

Her attention was completely drawn to the figure in the middle. The thin, small child slowly raised his head from the ground, wiped the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth with the back of his dirty hand, and then raised his eyes to coldly sweep over the people surrounding him who were beating him.

Jiang Ran felt as if she had been struck by lightning.

Those eyes, those eyes that never begged for mercy even when being beaten or trampled underfoot.

She knew it all too well.

Those are my sister's eyes.

Jiang Ran stared blankly at the face that, though youthful, was exactly the same as the one that had reached out to her on the balcony seven years ago, and felt something inside her collapsing.

This is my older sister.

My older sister when I was little.

The older sister, still in the orphanage, was surrounded and beaten, cowering in a corner like a wounded little animal.

She knew her sister was an orphan, and she also knew her sister grew up in an orphanage.

My sister always says, "It's all in the past, there's nothing to mention."

She never imagined that her sister's words, "It's all in the past," would be interpreted in this way.

She wanted to rush forward, to shield him from behind, to take every punch and kick for him.

But there was nothing she could do. She could only kneel beside that small figure, watching his back be kicked until it hunched over, watching a trickle of fresh blood seep from the corner of his mouth, watching him coldly sweep over everyone who hit him with those stubborn eyes that were exactly the same as when he grew up.

Her tears flowed silently, falling onto his hand, but he felt nothing.

"Sister... Sister..."

Her voice shattered in the air; no one heard it.

The children finally dispersed after venting all their malice.

Only that small figure remained curled up on the ground in the open space. Jiang Ran knelt beside him, reaching out to wipe the blood from his face, but her fingertips pierced through his skin, and she couldn't touch him.

The child lay on the ground for a while, then slowly got up using his thin arms to support himself. He patted the dust off his knees and limped towards the dormitory.

He didn't cry, not even a hint of redness in his eyes; he just pursed his lips, stubborn and silent.

The images continued to switch rapidly in front of her, like a roll of film that had been fast-forwarded.

She saw her sister sit down in the corner with the food she had painstakingly brought, only to be surrounded by several children a size older than her. The leader snatched her bowl, dumped the food into the trash can, and said that an unwanted bastard didn't deserve to eat.

She saw her sister being cornered in a cramped storage room by a group of children. Several children were pouring buckets of cold water over him, one after another. He huddled in the corner, hugging his knees, silent and shivering, soaked to the bone.

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of her throat. Her fingers gripped the hem of her skirt so tightly that her nails dug deep red marks into her palms through the fabric.

She wanted to stand in front of him and take the cold water for him, to pull him up from that cold corner, and to take him to a warm place, to take him home.

But her hand went through everything; she could do nothing.

The scene continued to change, and she saw that small figure learn to fight back from being passively attacked.

Another beating ensued. A group of people cornered him in a corner of the toilet. The leader had barely finished uttering a curse word when he pounced like a cornered beast, knocking the fat man, who was half a head taller than him, to the ground and pounding his face with his fists.

The kids next to him were pulling his arm, kicking his back, and whipping his shoulder with a mop handle, but he wouldn't let go. He focused all his attacks on the leader's face until the fat guy was bleeding from his nose and crying for mercy. Only then did he slowly release his grip, stand up, wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and coldly scan the remaining kids, asking who else wanted to try.

The children looked at each other, none of them daring to step forward.

What they cared about most was their faces. In the orphanage, being good-looking meant a greater chance of being adopted, and he would deliberately hit their faces, hitting the most conspicuous places.

Anyone who dares to lay a punch on him will be retaliated with double the force.

Gradually, no one dared to bully him anymore.

The scene shifts again, and Jiang Ran sees her sister sitting on the bed in the dilapidated dormitory, one foot on the edge of the opposite bed, arms crossed, head slightly tilted, her gaze coldly sweeping over the group of children in front of her who are bowing their heads and not daring to breathe.

His hair was still somewhat messy but still looked good. The bruises and bloodstains on his face hadn't completely faded, but the coldness in his eyes was enough to make all those who had bullied him back down.

He didn't need to say anything; just sitting there, he already exuded the aura that would later make thugs kneel down and call him "sister."

Jiang Ran stood at the dormitory entrance, watching this scene. She looked at her sister's young face, which already showed signs of future sharpness, and at his arrogant demeanor that made everyone else feel inferior. The corners of her mouth involuntarily turned up.

She remembered the figure who climbed over the wall onto the balcony seven years ago and reached out his hand in front of her; she remembered the person who told her in the hospital room, "From now on, you're with me"; she remembered the person who could lift a 50-pound bag of flour with one hand in the kitchen of a dessert shop and slap the homeroom teacher away in the office.

So my sister was already like this so early on.

The light in Jiang Ran's eyes gradually softened and brightened, carrying a kind of infatuation that she herself was unaware of.

This is her older sister.