Song Shurou's revenge was like a silent, drizzling rain, slowly seeping in and corroding everything. It arrived unexpectedly, yet within the spectrum of human malice, it seemed perfectly logical.
She knew her own strength was meager, insufficient to shake the deeply-rooted Song family.
The only target within her reach was an innocent and fragile child, the one who had replaced her own daughter and was now enjoying everything that should have belonged to her: Song Qingwan.
She spent almost all her savings lying on an operating table. The doctor, using the photos of Song Qingwan she provided, adjusted her eyebrows, eyes, bridge of her nose, and the shape of her lips.
When the bandages were removed, the person in the mirror bore a resemblance that, in the subtleties of her features, seemed even closer to Song Qingwan than the real Song Shuhua did.
She began to appear around Song Qingwan, speaking of the truth in a gentle yet sorrowful tone.
At first, little Qingwan was resistant, afraid.
Until one day, the child actually approached her with candor and said, "Auntie, I will go tell Mom and Dad..."
At that moment, the hatred and panic in Song Shurou's heart reached their peak.
She must never be allowed to speak!
Yet, on her face, she revealed a mournful smile. She took little Qingwan's hand and taught her how to deceive her teacher and the driver to leave with her: "Good child, thank you. Before that, will you first accompany your mother to experience what real life is like, okay?"
She took little Qingwan back to her own house and made her wash dishes, deliberately causing her to cut her hand.
The girl cried out in pain.
Song Shurou frantically bandaged the wound, muttering incessantly, "Oh dear, how could you be so careless? If this leaves a scar, how will you ever play the piano again?"
The cut was deep. For several weeks, Song Qingwan couldn't practice.
Just as the wound was almost healed, Song Shurou arranged the next "accident."
She had the idle, liquor-and-tobacco reeking man from next door go and harass little Qingwan while she waited alone.
The man's lecherous gaze and vulgar words terrified the girl, making her tremble and scream as she hid in the arms of Song Shurou, who had conveniently returned just in time.
Truthfully, she had wanted the man to succeed then, but fearing it might cause too great a trauma for Song Qingwan and alert the Song family, she stepped in to stop it.
Song Shurou chased the man away, holding the terrified little Qingwan tightly, her voice trembling and full of feigned fear: "Wan'er, you see! This is the world outside! Without the Song family to protect you, you would encounter countless villains like him! Mom almost lost you!"
Cupping the girl's pale little face, she spun another lie:
"Wan'er, did you know? Song Shuhua originally had a biological daughter. It was Mom, wanting you to have a good life, who secretly switched you with that child."
"But Mom didn't take good care of that child... she fell ill and died long ago..."
"If you go and tell the truth now, do you think Song Shuhua would forgive you? How would she treat the daughter of the person who caused her own daughter's death?"
"You would be cast out, living a life worse than Mom's now! You would lose the piano forever, and might even be sent to a place more terrible than this!"
All of this completely shattered little Qingwan's psychological defenses.
She looked at the dilapidated surroundings around her, remembered the disgusting man's gaze, and contrasted it with the warm piano room and her mother's gentle embrace in the Song household.
She didn't dare to speak anymore.
This secret became a shackle tightening around her young heart, filling her days and nights with anxiety and dread.
Later, as little Qingwan grew older, she would occasionally ask about the past, about that child who died of illness.
Song Shurou always spoke with such heartfelt sincerity, because none of it was a lie; they were all things that had truly happened.
The sisters' rivalry, Song Qingzhi and her fleeting romance, the existence of that child—all were true.
Only, the one who died wasn't Song Shuhua's daughter, but her own, Song Shurou's daughter.
Later, as Song Qingwan grew older and more understanding, Song Shurou grew increasingly fearful.
What if Song Qingwan took a paternity test? All her schemes would vanish in an instant.
So, she orchestrated a life-saving favor.
She bribed a truck driver. As he drove towards Song Qingwan on her way home from school, she rushed out, pushed the stunned girl aside, and let the truck's front fender graze her own arm.
Blood stained her sleeve. Bearing the pain, she looked at the shaken Song Qingwan and managed to force a weak, relieved smile.
In that moment, she saw complete trust and gratitude in Song Qingwan's eyes.
From then on, Song Qingwan completely let down her guard towards her and became obedient to her every word.
Song Shurou began, bit by bit, to instill her own heart full of resentment and twisted worldview into her.
"Wan'er, in life, one must always look out for oneself."
"Everything of the Song family rightfully belongs to you. Why should you share it with others?"
"If you want something, you must strive and seize it by any means necessary. Softness of heart will only bring you harm."
"Look at your mother. I was too kind, and that's why I ended up like this..."
She watched with satisfaction as this child, who carried the blood of Song Qingzhi and Song Shuhua, under her day-after-day tutelage, gradually lost the purity that once shone in her eyes, becoming cold, even inwardly gloomy.
As she wished, the child of those two people who prided themselves on being kind and noble had, under the guidance of a rat from the gutter like her, grown twisted.
She was ecstatic, her heart filled with the thrill of successful revenge.
Her original plan was to incite Song Qingwan to commit an irreparable wrong, then, at the height of her triumph, personally reveal the bloody truth, making Song Qingwan collapse and causing Song Qingzhi and Song Shuhua a lifetime of pain!
Unfortunately, all of this was ruined by Gu Chengyu.
She was exposed.
What followed was Song Qingzhi's furious retaliation.
That man, who appeared gentle and refined, hid astonishing ruthlessness and madness in his bones.
He didn't hand her over to the law, perhaps thinking that was too lenient.
He locked her away in an asylum.
She was injected with drugs, tortured daily to a point where death seemed preferable.
She wanted to kill herself but wasn't even given the chance to bite off her own tongue.
Until that day, an orderly dozed by the doorway, the door left slightly ajar.
Summoning the last of her strength in this lifetime, she struggled out of bed, stumbled through the door, and dashed down the corridor towards the window at the far end.
Shouts of alarm and pursuing footsteps echoed behind her.
She paid no heed, a smile even appearing on her face.
She slammed into the window, throwing herself out.
The wind whistled past her ears during the rapid descent, brief and free.
Then, everything turned to darkness.
She was finally, free.
