Ji Nian thought to herself, "Of course I am—I'm your daughter, your flesh and blood."
But she couldn’t say it out loud.
The moment the words formed in her mind, her lips felt glued shut, and even writing them down seemed impossible.
Faced with Ji Tingzhou’s suspicion, she could only blink innocently.
Fortunately, he didn’t press further, leaving the question of her motives unanswered.
Their lives were already like this—how much worse could they get?
At night, Ji Nian slept on the right side of Da Gen, with Ji Tingzhou on the left.
The room was sparsely furnished, but the bed was surprisingly large, just enough to fit two children and a dog lying sideways.
After the earlier rain, the temperature dropped, making the night chilly. Thankfully, the warmth of the furry dog beside her let Ji Nian sleep soundly as she hugged him.
Ji Tingzhou, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at all.
The presence of a stranger in his bed kept him tense and alert.
He expected to stay awake until dawn, but somehow, he drifted off without realizing it.
The next morning, he was jolted awake by noises outside. Ji Tingzhou forced himself up, eyes sharp with vigilance.
Crouching as he stepped out, he gripped a razor blade he’d retrieved from under his pillow, scanning for the source of the sound.
His gaze landed on a curly-haired child patching up a hole in the side of the house with a piece of wood she’d found somewhere.
That hole had been there for ages, letting in drafts. Ji Tingzhou had meant to fix it properly when he found the right materials, but Ji Nian had beaten him to it.
Hearing his movement, the little girl turned.
In the sunlight, her face—identical to his—was so clear it made him momentarily dizzy.
"You’re awake."
He looked like he’d dragged himself out of bed, his eyelids swollen.
Ji Tingzhou stared at her silently for a long moment before turning away without a word.
Remembering how they’d drooled over a pack of instant noodles the day before, Ji Nian didn’t ask about breakfast. She rubbed her empty stomach and waited after securing the wooden patch.
Ji Tingzhou soon reappeared, Da Gen in tow.
He glanced at her and started walking in a direction, clearly expecting her to follow.
Ji Nian noticed something tucked under his arm but didn’t get a good look before he spoke.
"Put your hat on."
She obediently pulled it over her head.
Maybe because she’d fixed the house, Ji Tingzhou seemed slightly less cold toward her—though not by much.
As they walked, Ji Nian noticed many others heading the same way.
Their destination turned out to be a scrap metal collection site, mostly frequented by the elderly and children. They exchanged screws, discarded steel, or other useful scraps for meager earnings.
When Ji Tingzhou returned, Ji Nian had no idea how much he’d gotten, but he immediately bought a steamed bun.
He split it into three—giving the largest piece to Ji Nian, feeding another to Da Gen, and keeping the smallest for himself.
He ate quickly, shooting Ji Nian a look that told her to do the same.
It reminded her of the older Ji Tingzhou’s refined, leisurely dining habits—so different from this ravenous version.
For a moment, she completely understood why the future Ji Tingzhou would become so particular about food.
After finishing the bun, Ji Tingzhou didn’t move.
Ji Nian stood beside him, silent.
Soon, Shen Rushan arrived, looking the same as yesterday. His sharp eyes caught the crumbs at Ji Tingzhou’s lips.
"You’re throwing your life away?" he asked, surprised. "What’s the occasion, eating buns today?"
Ji Tingzhou ignored him, glaring in response.
Shen Rushan, used to his attitude, turned to Ji Nian instead.
But his smile faded when he spotted Zhiliao approaching, her face bruised purple.
Ji Nian’s eyes darted to her cheek—no scar.
So it’s not today, she thought, relieved it wasn’t her actions that had caused this. But her heart ached with anger and pity.
Before she could react, Shen Rushan gripped her arm.
His eyes warned her not to ask.
Ji Nian pressed her lips together and relaxed, signaling she understood.
Only then did Shen Rushan let go, forcing a cheerful tone. "Now that we’re all here, let’s go."
Zhiliao herself seemed indifferent, clearly accustomed to the bruises. But Ji Nian’s face fell, her distress obvious.
Ji Tingzhou kept glancing at her, as if puzzled by her reaction.
On the way, Shen Rushan explained to Ji Nian, "We’re going to North Street."
"North Street isn’t technically part of Liuxing Street. The living conditions are better there, and it’s closer to the outside world—the only exit point."
Most people here weren’t allowed to leave without proper documentation. Many were undocumented, fugitives hiding from powerful enemies, or exiles sent here as punishment. It was a lawless "prison," where entry was easy but escape nearly impossible.
Ji Nian understood.
Then it hit her.
Wait… the direction and location… isn’t this Wei Yang’s hometown in the future?
She’d been here before—Wei Yang had brought her to visit.
North Street was a stark contrast to the garbage-strewn slums. The buildings, though old, were intact, bustling like a small town.
Standing there, Ji Nian felt like she’d stepped from a wasteland back into civilization.
But the locals weren’t welcoming. Adults eyed them like dirty rodents.
The three children remained expressionless, used to such treatment.
They turned into a narrow alley lined with stalls—vendors selling handmade goods, blood, street food, themselves, even children.
A surreal mix of liveliness and desperation.
One child seller’s calculating gaze lingered on them, his lips curling into a greedy smile when he noticed Ji Nian—like she was a prized commodity.
"Stay close."
Ji Tingzhou stepped between them, glaring so fiercely the man quickly looked away.
At the end of the alley, in a hidden corner, they stopped.
Shen Rushan set down a small stool and lifted what Ji Nian had mistaken for a footrest—a sign scrawled with white chalk:
"Braiding. One yuan per style."
