In this timeline, White Sparrow had taken on countless identities while on the run. It took Shen Yi three years to finally track him down.
Once she had located his hiding place, the girl expertly picked the lock and slipped inside without a sound, appearing behind him.
The desk lamp cast her shadow long across the floor.
Shen Yi raised her hand and brought the blade down.
Without a sound, she dealt with him in the bedroom.
On this worldline, Shen Yi would investigate and eliminate in advance anything that might threaten her family’s safety, gradually clearing away every potential danger.
After carrying out some murderous deed or arson, Shen Yi would always time it so that she appeared on the road home just as Shen Sixing finished work, intercepting him for a few casual words.
It wasn’t that she needed comforting.
She simply still liked reporting everything to her parents, just as she had in the past, after every mission.
When talking with Shen Sixing and the others, Shen Yi would also use a small box she had brought from the future to record their conversations, keeping them as memories.
Most of the time, when Shen Sixing was stopped by her, he would patiently answer her questions.
He was quite kindly, for the most part.
The word “kindly” sounded rather comical when applied to a killer.
But it was the truth.
Perhaps he had truly come to understand what it meant to be a father. Shen Sixing was no longer the man who had been utterly indifferent to everyone but himself at eighteen. Now, in his twenties, a gentle paternal warmth radiated from him, softening him from the inside out.
“If the world were a comic, and everything connected to it revolved around the protagonist, how could I change the fate of the villain?” Shen Yi asked him.
Plane-tree leaves rustled down from overhead. A scorched-yellow leaf spiraled onto Shen Sixing’s shoulder.
He casually brushed it away, then lowered his head to look at the girl who had suddenly popped up to ask his opinion.
The protagonist?
A comic?
Every word sounded like the kind of nonsensical thing a child in their chūnibyō phase might say.
Shen Sixing was baffled.
So he answered offhandedly, “Just kill the protagonist, won’t you?”
Shen Yi looked dispirited. “You’re as brutally straightforward as ever. If the protagonist could be killed, they wouldn’t be the protagonist…”
Quite apart from whether she could actually succeed, the question of “Would the world still exist if the protagonist were killed?” was enough to make her hesitate for a long time.
Everyone was happy now. Shen Yi had worked so hard in this timeline, shielding them from one trouble after another, all so they could live happily. How could she possibly kill Song Yee and bring the world crashing down?
This was already the best ending.
“No, no, I can’t kill the protagonist. What would happen to the people I’m protecting? I’ve protected them for a long time.”
“You? Protecting people?”
Shen Sixing stared at the fifteen-year-old girl in disbelief and laughed. “You don’t look like someone who could take on the role of a protector.”
Shen Yi had been about to argue, but when she saw his warm smile, devoid of any hint of mockery, she suddenly decided it didn’t matter.
“I’m not here to discuss my age with you. And I really have played this kind of role many times… If you don’t believe me, forget it.”
After muttering a couple more sentences to herself, Shen Yi dusted the dirt from her trousers.
“Anyway, I’ll do my best to deal with everyone in the future who might pose a threat to you.”
Shen Yi hadn’t really come to ask his opinion. She had only wanted to talk to Shen Sixing.
Anything would do. Even a couple of meaningless, silly remarks were better than staring blankly into space alone.
In the first few years after being forgotten, Shen Yi would occasionally go to the Shen family’s home to remind them she existed. But as time passed, after being ignored by her family again and again, repeatedly met with suspicion and interrogation, she stopped visiting so often.
Whenever she was bored or missed them, she would play the part of an NPC by the roadside and engineer an “accidental” encounter with them.
For instance, this time, Shen Yi was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers when she saw Wen Ya walking toward her from across the street.
As soon as Wen Ya came closer, Shen Yi immediately pretended to be a flower vendor. Holding out the large bunch of carnations, she revealed most of her face and asked with a beaming smile,
“Miss, would you like some flowers?”
Wen Ya lowered her head to look at her and froze for a moment.
Shen Yi held them out a little farther.
Wen Ya hesitated for several seconds. She hadn’t really wanted to accept flowers from a stranger, but when she met Shen Yi’s gaze, she still took them as if possessed.
The moment the little girl saw that, her face lit up. Following through on the motion of handing over the flowers, she leaned forward and gave Wen Ya a firm hug.
Shen Yi’s eyes curved into a smile.
“Happy Mother’s Day.”
Wen Ya stood where she was, holding the flowers and watching the little girl run off after tossing out those words.
She didn’t know why.
It had only been a bouquet from a child she didn’t know at all.
And yet, in that instant, something seemed to give her heart a gentle bump.
A strange, faint ache welled up inside her.
After running away, Shen Yi also hid in an empty corner by a wall and took quite a while to calm herself down.
In truth, she didn’t want to seek them out so often either.
She simply missed them a little.
…
As people forgot her, even the concept of time gradually grew blurred.
Shen Yi could no longer remember when someone had last called her by name.
[Shen Yi.]
Then, one day, the system suddenly told her: [You can go see your mother now. She’s expecting a baby, so you can go meet her. She won’t remember you anyway.]
“Mother?”
Her mother’s name was Ni Yue.
Shen Yi’s only impression of her came from what her younger brother had said. But he had been too young at the time, and the image he had given her was indistinct.
For some reason, Shen Yi could chat and hug Wen Ya and Shen Sixing with perfect ease. But when it came to her biological mother, she found herself strangely timid.
Following the system’s directions, she finally saw the mother whose face had once been too blurry even in her dreams, standing on a street.
The woman stood in the slanting afternoon sunlight, a paper bag dangling from one hand, half a baguette protruding from its opening.
She wore a light beige knitted cardigan, its collar lying loosely against her neck. Her hair was a gentle chestnut brown, glowing with a warm softness in the light.
Shen Yi stood at the street corner, hesitating for a long time. When she saw that the woman was about to leave, she finally gathered her courage and walked over.
Ni Yue was just about to head home when someone stepped in front of her. She instinctively looked the girl over.
Her gaze traveled from Shen Yi’s eyebrows down to her eyes—and suddenly stopped.
“You… look so much like I did when I was little.”
Even Ni Yue’s voice was like a soft, airy mist, ethereal and gentle.
The tension constricting Shen Yi’s throat suddenly loosened.
She looked into Ni Yue’s eyes and called out,
“Mom.”
Ni Yue froze on the spot.
