Chapter 240: Lu Liangting’s Sister? Mine Now!
Zhao Mingyue was quite the clean freak, the type that even Marie Kondo would nod in approval at. Her house was a sanctuary of order—everything meticulously arranged. The damp, musty abode transformed into a floral-scented oasis the moment she moved in. Just walking through the door could lighten anyone’s mood!
But now, as she and Bai Yu stepped inside, their noses were assaulted by a chaotic mix of takeaway and garbage food aromas. They’d only been away for a few days; if they stayed gone another four or five, the place would probably turn into a horror movie set.
It was summer, things rotted fast.
If a few flies joined the party, the house would soon be crawling with fat, white maggots!
“Dead fox!” Zhao Mingyue exclaimed, finally losing her cool. She yanked on the fox’s tail, dragging it back and giving its fuzzy head a few good thumps. Shuang Er’s eyes filled with tears, clear evidence that she had received quite the beating.
“I’m giving you one hour to tidy up my house! It better look the same as when I left, or tonight, Bai Yu and I will feast on hotpot made with fox meat!”
“Yikes!” Shuang Er jumped up. “No, no, no! Fox meat doesn’t taste good! How about you two eat Xiaohong’s food instead? She—”
Before she could finish, Shuang Er noticed the dangerously glinting gaze from Bai Yu and quickly swallowed her words. She understood all too well that while Zhao Mingyue likely said the hotpot thing out of anger, Bai Yu might just be dead serious.
“I didn’t say anything, nada.”
Zhao Mingyue dropped her suitcase by the door, tugged Bai Yu and shut it behind them.
“Let that dead fox tidy up. Let’s sit in the park outside.”
“Sounds good.”
Once they were downstairs, they didn’t have to walk too far before landing in a little park that somehow hadn’t attracted any people at this dinner-hour.
Zhao Mingyue was thrilled; she just wanted some private time with Bai Yu.
On a bench, they sat in the gentle breeze, gazing at a distant river. Instead of diving into the drama surrounding Li Tianan, she decided it was the right moment to bring up something from last night at the bathhouse. It was the first time she had seen Bai Yu wear such a serious expression, and she hadn’t been able to ask then—so why not now?
“Did that guy, An Que, say something important last night? You seem a bit… off,” she asked, gently holding Bai Yu’s hand.
Bai Yu shot her a glance, recognizing the curious glint in her friend’s eyes.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about some matters concerning my old friends.”
“Care to elaborate?” Zhao Mingyue sighed. “If it’s too personal, that’s alright. My curiosity got the better of me, seeing you so serious yesterday.”
“I don’t know if it’s concern or just my own curiosity,” Bai Yu replied, staring off into the distance. “You see, my old friends, including the Dragon Lady and our teacher Chen, are all the same kind of people—bad people.”
“We’re a bunch of ruffians, murderers; every one of us has bl**d on our hands, without exception.”
“But suddenly, we found ourselves free—no more missions, a brand new identity. As long as we steer clear of our old paths, we can live quietly like normal people.”
“Like ordinary passersby, having lives we control, not dodging d*ath from old foes.”
“Yet, how can we possibly settle into a calm existence?”
“The moment we were born, we were marked. Even if our bodies are restored, our souls are still ugly.”
“Even with a new identity, we struggle to adapt, afraid to sleep too deeply. Any minor disturbance wakes us.”
“It’s simple: we bad people know deep down that we’re beyond redemption.”
“But during this period, I’ve noticed our shift back to normalcy seems to have an ulterior motive from the organization.”
In sc*m Game, there were adjustments made to both the game world and its participants.
When mentioning sc*m Game to the inhabitants of that world, as long as it wasn’t overly outrageous or direct, its influence kept them from getting suspicious.
It was a cognitive influence; a powerful one, no doubt. But even sc*m Game couldn’t achieve a hundred percent correction, which explained the limitations—it prevented participants from outright saying anything.
Once spoken aloud, it became a matter of eliminating witnesses.
Letting the word spread would surely spell doom for the participant.
Understanding this, Bai Yu expressed her thoughts vaguely to Zhao Mingyue. She wasn’t worried about Mingyue not believing her—after their experiences with the Gatekeeper and Ghost Domain, throw in some rogue groups, and Mingyue wouldn’t bat an eye.
“Do you still have missions?” Zhao Mingyue suddenly felt tense.
“Kind of. It’s a bit complicated.”
“What kind?”
“Redemption.”
“Redemption?” Zhao Mingyue tilted her head, puzzled by Bai Yu’s meaning.
“Redemption for us sc*m,” Bai Yu murmured, looking down, her fist clenched and then slowly relaxed.
That simple statement confused Zhao Mingyue briefly—until the gears in her mind clicked. The term ‘redemption’ by itself was vague, but when linked to the ‘sc*m’ Bai Yu referred to, it suddenly made sense.
Bai Yu’s old friends were certainly not your average folk; their differences were immediately noticeable.
They all had their pasts and burdens, just like Bai Sisi, Bai Yu’s sister. Was their redemption tied to confronting those issues?
But could events already set in motion reverse?
Or was it possible to find redemption without revisiting the past?
For instance, if someone had accidentally killed a person and then later encountered that person’s child, now in danger, wouldn’t saving that child also count as redemption?
Whether bad people deserved redemption was a different topic entirely.
At the very least, making an effort would be a step toward making amends, right?
“That sounds good!” Zhao Mingyue’s brows relaxed. She didn’t understand why Bai Yu would feel troubled over this.
“Maybe it could be seen as good,” Bai Yu said, glancing at Zhao Mingyue, hesitating slightly, then organizing her thoughts. “But have you considered a problem? If they get the chance for redemption, with their current situations, would they actively pursue it, or choose to evade it? If they find the courage, will they have the strength?”
Bai Yu had shared a lot.
She didn’t expect an answer from Zhao Mingyue; rather, she wanted her to understand what was to come and why it mattered.
However, tasks weren’t typically riddled with puzzles, but redemption tasks tended to be peculiar. Some looked unnecessary, a waste of effort.
“Ah, yes, those are definitely worth considering,” Zhao Mingyue scratched her head, suddenly pondering another matter.
Given Bai Yu’s character, why would she suddenly be so reflective?
She rarely discussed tasks in this depth, usually only after they began or ended.
Now, with the gravity in her tone…
“So, someone needs to help them,” said Bai Yu.
“Help them? That person wouldn’t happen to be you, would it…?” Zhao Mingyue exclaimed, shocked.
Bai Yu’s temperament was hardly suited for helping others achieve their redemption; it was strange, almost shocking—no wonder those madwomen were so taken aback outside White Day Amusement Park.
“It’s me,” Bai Yu asserted, her tone suddenly changing. “What I contemplated yesterday was this: these people are my old friends; we’ve known each other too long. In a mission, if they d*e, they d*e.”
“If they’re on a redemptive path, should I not sever their limbs, taking their bodies to complete the task, avoiding any interference with my actions? Or should I simply k*ll them, redeeming them alongside their demise?”
“For us sc*m, d*ath is the best redemption.”
“Cough, cough, cough!” Zhao Mingyue hurriedly cleared her throat. “No, no, no! You don’t have to go that far! Just help where you can, and if it’s too much, let it be. Are there rewards for helping them with their redemption?”
“There are.”
“Well, then let’s go for it! If it’s not imperative, better to keep them alive. If they achieve redemption, they’ll surely thank you, right?”
Wiping nonexistent sweat from her forehead, Zhao Mingyue sighed in relief.
She had thought Bai Yu was in some deeper trouble; turns out it was just this!
Faced with the redemption of old friends—k*ll or help? Was that really something average people could ponder?
Alright, Bai Yu’s situation was far from ordinary.
No wonder she was so serious last night; deep down, Bai Yu presumably wished to see her old friends “reborn.”
As their conversation shifted, Zhao Mingyue noticed Bai Yu retreating to her old self, mute and withdrawn, as if what had just transpired was all a figment of her imagination.
After chatting for a bit, they decided to head back home.
They hadn’t walked far when Zhao Mingyue froze, struck by a thought.
While she mentally criticized Bai Yu for considering this method to “redeem” her friends, she overlooked one key aspect.
What about Bai Yu’s own redemption?
It was clear that Bai Yu’s redemption had a strong connection to the concept of “sister.”
With her sister gone, she couldn’t very well summon Bai Yu’s parents to have another kid, right?
Could someone else fill that role?
She couldn’t; she used to call Bai Yu ‘Sister Yu,’ but that had shifted to ‘Little Sister Yu’ given Bai Yu’s youth.
At her young age, who would be suitable as a sister?
Even that Feng Xi staying in the hospital looked to be around Bai Yu’s age.
Sugar would do, but hey, Sugar already had an older sister.
So would persuading Bai Yu to adopt a child count as redemption?
But where would the child come from?
Gazing at her flat belly and then over at Bai Yu, Zhao Mingyue took a deep breath.
Maybe it should be Huang Fengxi…
But she’d heard Huang Fengxi had Lu Liangting’s sister within her.
Borrowing her sister should be fine, right? Lu Liangting wouldn’t mind, would he?
“Bai Yu, it seems we haven’t visited Feng Xi in ages. And there’s that little sister, Nianqiu, in her body. I recall that Nianqiu was quite young when she died, right? Certainly younger than you.”
With that, Zhao Mingyue blurted out her thought.
It left Bai Yu momentarily stunned, staring at her, trying to grasp the implications of what Zhao Mingyue was suggesting.
Bai Yu was so taken aback—she hadn’t expected Zhao Mingyue to misinterpret her hints. No, not just hints; she was practically laying it bare: “You are my redemption. If anything were to happen to me, don’t be sad—at least my redemption would be complete.”
But Zhao Mingyue wasn’t thinking in that direction and instead was focused on Lu Liangting’s sister.
Was she seriously considering being the older sister instead?
Was she that hung up on the distinction between “above” and “below,” between sisters and siblings?
“What do you think?” Seeing Bai Yu’s hesitation, Zhao Mingyue pressed both hands on her shoulders. “I know this is a delicate matter for you, so we need to take it slow, step by step!”
Zhao Mingyue wasn’t joking; she fully understood the significance of Bai Sisi in Bai Yu’s heart. She wasn’t going to risk annoying Bai Yu for some silly jape.
Similarly, she genuinely wanted to help Bai Yu.
“Let’s talk about it later,” Bai Yu wished to bury her face in her hands.
This was gravely serious!
She realized Zhao Mingyue had genuine talent—managing to maintain a smooth, engaging conversation about something so grave while still making it feel sincere and heartfelt.
Forget it, forget it. There was no use discussing this with Mingyue right now.
It might only burden her.
Mentioning Lu Liangting’s sister was the better part of it.
What she feared was Zhao Mingyue insisting, “A daughter could replace a sister; it’s not impossible, right?”
Yet even so, she detested the idea of taking life as it comes.
But for tasks and redemptions, especially when tied to Zhao Mingyue, she had to take it one step at a time.
Overthinking led to scenarios like that.
·
·
Meanwhile, at the police station, Lu Liangting sneezed.
He was assisting in the investigation regarding Li Tianan and had actually uncovered some clues. The old man’s identity was traced to a village, with a d*ath date that wasn’t long ago—about half a year.
To him, that was no time at all, but to the police, it was downright chilling.
An elderly corpse, dead for half a year, turning up in a convenience store and making off with the owner? No one would believe it.
Just as he reached for his phone to sh**t a message to Mingyue and Bai Yu, his stepmother, Xia Qingrong, called—the fifth call of the day.
“I won’t forget Nianqiu’s d*ath anniversary; you don’t need to remind me.”
“What do your family gatherings have to do with me? I don’t even share your last name.”
