If this wasn't a dream.
Where was Shen Yi?
Shen Xun couldn't help but ponder this question.
He felt that his life without Shen Yi would be exactly like this.
His only childhood playmate would be himself. He would quietly complete all his puzzles and Rubik's cubes, staying silently by his parents' side—not noisy, not troublesome, and not happy.
And not in pain, either.
Without her, Shen Xun wouldn't even know what the concept of pain was.
He could even face death with absolute calmness.
Shen Xun watched that younger version of himself for a while and found it a bit dull.
That child was too quiet, neither running nor making a fuss, just staying there peacefully like a plant that could survive without sunlight.
Shen Xun stood up and walked onto the street.
He tried casually swiping a few things from passersby.
His movements were nonchalant and so fast that those people didn't even react.
By the time they did, they immediately yelled, "Call the police!" and pulled out their phones in a panic.
Amidst their fierce accusations, Shen Xun observed their reactions.
It was too real.
The fearful eyes of the pedestrians, their trembling voices, the flush on their faces from the adrenaline rush—it didn't seem fake.
He felt it was highly unlikely to be a dream.
If it really was a dream, it was far too realistic.
Shen Xun returned the stolen wallets.
"Sorry," he said, his voice devoid of any actual apology, before turning and walking away.
He decided to go see Shen Yi first.
If the universe was a completely static book, every choice a person made would draw out countless threads, and any given period of time might have different dimensions.
Perhaps in this dimension, she wasn't his sister, and she had her own family.
And was very happy.
But he still wanted to see her.
It didn't matter if she wasn't his sister.
Shen Xun just wanted to confirm if she was doing well.
Ever since Shen Yi died in front of him time and time again, all the emotions of Shen Xun's life had been exhausted on her.
After seeing her corpse one hundred and thirty-seven times, there could be nothing worse in this world.
By the same token, there was nothing in this world that could bring him more peace of mind than seeing her alive.
Even if she didn't know him.
...
The gates of the Song family estate were taller than he imagined. The lights in the villa were still on, and the orange glow filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled shadows on the ground.
The security here was as useless as ever.
The security of the rich was mostly just for the rich to look at themselves.
Its main purpose was psychological comfort.
When Shen Xun vaulted over, he encountered almost no resistance.
It was too easy.
Shen Xun stood in a daze for a moment, wondering where little Yi would be and how she was doing.
The young man stood silently in the shadows of the garden, listening to a few servants chatting at the entrance.
The night was so quiet that he could hear every single word of their conversation clearly.
"Haha, the eldest miss is so amusing. Just seeing her puts me in a better mood."
"Why else would the master call her our little bundle of joy?"
"..."
Shen Xun found them incredibly noisy.
The servants at his house never spoke out of turn.
Who was the eldest miss?
Was it little Yi?
Shen Xun walked down the corridor, passing room after room. He went up to the second floor and followed the hallway all the way to the end.
Soon, a little girl's laughter drifted out from behind a half-open door.
Shen Xun stopped in his tracks.
He didn't push the door open, but instead turned sideways and peered through the crack.
Inside the room, he saw Song Yee.
The girl was playing with someone, a smile on her face. Her unguarded appearance made her look very happy.
Shen Xun remembered that during her childhood, Shen Yi had once been somewhat afraid of this girl.
She had never said why.
Shen Xun had guessed many possibilities, but Shen Yi had shut them all down one by one.
Shen Xun quietly stared at Song Yee's innocent and bright smile.
Perhaps this time, he could find the truth.
...
Shen Yi's room was at the other end of the hallway.
Compared to Song Yee's room, this place was so quiet it hardly seemed like a child's living quarters.
The door was closed, and no light seeped through the gap beneath it.
The person inside seemed to be asleep already.
He had swiped a key and unlocked the door.
He closed it.
His movements were very light, the click of the latch engaging almost inaudible.
Hearing the noise, the girl tentatively poked her head out.
She thought it was the nanny coming in.
The nanny would sometimes check in the middle of the night to see if she had kicked off her blankets, even though she never did.
However, she realized it wasn't the nanny.
The person who entered was a stranger.
And a man at that.
"Who are you?"
Shen Yi...
No.
To be exact, it was Song Yi.
The girl was like a little hedgehog. Sensing danger, she immediately raised all her quills. She backed away, grabbing a pillow to shield herself and her doll in an attempt to fend off this unknown figure.
"My name is Shen Xun."
Song Yi said vigilantly, "I've never seen you before."
She added, "And I don't know you either!"
Shen Xun didn't speak, just quietly looking at her.
One hundred and thirty-seven times.
She had died one hundred and thirty-seven times.
Each time with such absolute resolve.
His gaze fell upon the girl's face.
This was his younger sister.
This was the sister he had watched grow up, the one who always hid behind him.
And also the sister who, after growing up, turned and walked away, never looking back.
Countless thoughts swirled and twisted in his mind.
Finally, they sank to the very bottom, turning into a sigh of tears of joy.
...It was his living sister.
At this moment, an overwhelming wave of bittersweet sorrow suddenly gripped his throat, tightening inch by inch, and his eyes grew uncontrollably hot.
It turned out he wasn't devoid of emotion.
Just looking at her, safe and sound in this moment, was enough to make him want to weep with gratitude.
Shen Xun gazed at her for a long time. His tone was soft, and he spoke gently with an almost reverent devotion:
"You can call me... brother."
