Chapter 61: The Runaway

Under the blanket, there was nothing.

No little blind girl curled into a ball. No white hair. No tattered penguin.

Only pillows. Only the rolled-up bedding.

Lin Qingxue froze.

She sat on the bed, staring at the shape the quilt and pillows had formed into. She was silent for a few seconds.

Then she closed her eyes and reviewed the memory from earlier that night—she had come out of the shower, seen the lump in the bed, and assumed the girl was asleep.

She hadn’t gone over to check. She hadn’t lifted the covers to confirm. She’d simply turned off the light, lain down, and fallen asleep.

The little blind girl wasn’t in the bed. She hadn’t been there at all.

Lin Qingxue opened her eyes.

She let out a quiet laugh, cold as ice. “What? Is the little mute trying to run?”

She stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. The living room was dark. Empty.

“Little mute, get your ass out here.”

No answer.

She called again. “I’ll count to three.”

Nothing.

One.

Two.

Three.

Nothing.

Lin Qingxue stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the empty house.

She had thought the girl was just asleep. But she wasn’t there.

Her voice dropped, the impatience clear. “Su Yutao.”

No answer.

She walked back to the bedroom and opened the closet.

Su Yutao’s clothes were still there—but the oversized T-shirt, the long pants, the slippers—all gone.

She had left wearing Lin Qingxue’s clothes. She had left wearing Lin Qingxue’s slippers.

Lin Qingxue stood before the closet, looking at the empty space.

Then she turned to the front door.

It was slightly ajar.

Opened from the inside, then gently pulled shut.

She had actually gone out.

Lin Qingxue stood at the doorway, silent for a long time.

A strange feeling rose in her chest—not worry, not fear.

It was annoyance. The kind of annoyance you feel when something you get every day suddenly becomes unavailable. The kind of annoyance when something you hold in your hand every day is no longer within reach.

Every night she woke up, she saw the little blind girl curled up in the corner, trembling.

Every night she could toy with her as she pleased.

Every night she could hear her “heh-heh” sounds, like a small animal with its tail stepped on.

She wasn’t there.

She had run away.

Lin Qingxue turned, walked back to the bedroom, and began to change clothes.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

It rang twice before someone picked up.

Mole’s voice was thick with sleep. “Sister Lin? It’s the middle of the night—”

“Pull up the surveillance footage from around here.”

Lin Qingxue cut him off.

Mole paused. “Surveillance? What surveillance?”

Lin Qingxue’s voice was flat. “The cameras near my place. Tonight. A little blind girl, white hair, holding a penguin. Find out which direction she went.”

Mole went silent for a moment, then asked quietly, “Sister Lin… your little blind girl… she ran away?”

Lin Qingxue didn’t answer. She hung up.

She stood by the window, looking out at the night.

The streetlights were on, row after row, stretching off into the distance.

She didn’t know which direction the little blind girl had gone. She didn’t know how far she could get.

All she knew was that she had to bring her back. She had to have her in her hands again. She had to hear her “heh-heh” sounds and see her tremble.

That girl was hers.

Picked up by her. Raised by her. Hers.

***

Elsewhere.

Su Yutao stood on the street, her sonar drawing the outline of the world in her mind.

The streetlights were round patches of light. The trees were black silhouettes. The buildings were massive blocks, neatly arranged.

Clouds drifted overhead, blurry, pushed by the wind, slowly moving.

The moon hung above the rooftops, round and bright, like a glowing plate.

She stood there, tilting her head up, “looking” at the moon.

To anyone else, this moon was an everyday sight. But to her, in this unfamiliar world, it was the only thing that resembled the world she had come from.

The moon was blurry, just an outline, but it was round, it was bright, and it was in the sky.

The same moon as in her original world.

Qiansui whispered in her ear, “Is it pretty?”

Su Yutao nodded.

Pretty. Really pretty.

She stood there, watching the moon, for a long time.

But she had to go back.

She didn’t want to, but she had to.

If she didn’t go back, that woman would find her, hit her, take Qiansui away.

She turned, ready to head back.

Then she realized she didn’t recognize the way.

Her sonar began to blur—outlines faded, edges dissolved like ink spreading in water.

Panic set in. She tried to go back, but she couldn’t tell directions anymore.

Qiansui whispered urgently in her ear, “Left! Go left!” Su Yutao turned left.

After one street, Qiansui said again, “Right! Go right!” Su Yutao turned right.

Qiansui was panicking too. “Wait, wait, I misread—it should be straight—”

Su Yutao went straight.

The further she went, the more secluded the streets became. The narrower.

By the time she realized it, she had walked into an alley—walls on both sides, darkness ahead, darkness behind.

She turned to go back out.

Voices came from the alley entrance.

Several men.

Loitering. Joking. Smirking.

They spotted her—a young girl, white hair, purple eyes, wearing adult-sized clothes, clutching a penguin, standing at the mouth of the alley.

One of them laughed. “Hey, isn’t this the little mute? Long time no see.”

Su Yutao’s hands began to shake.

She recognized them—not because she knew them, but because this body remembered.

They were the thugs who always bullied her. The ones who called her “blind” and “mute.” The ones who had broken this body’s leg.

Her legs went weak. She wanted to run.

She turned and fled.

But she couldn’t run fast.

This body was too short, its legs too stubby, and the slippers were too big—they fell off after two steps.

She stumbled a few steps before they caught up.

A hand grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The thug slammed her onto the ground.

Su Yutao hit the ground hard, her knees scraping against gravel. Pain shot through her.

She hugged Qiansui and curled into a ball.

The thugs gathered around, looking down at her.

“Got any money on you?” One of them crouched down and reached into her pockets.

Su Yutao shook her head desperately.

She had no money. This body didn’t have a single cent.

The thug felt around in her pockets—nothing.

He clicked his tongue. “Damn it. Broke.”

Another thug kicked her. “No money? Where the hell have you been hiding? We’ve been looking for you for days.”

Su Yutao curled tighter, not daring to move.

The thug kicked her again. “I’m talking to you! Mute!”

Su Yutao opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

She just curled up, clutching Qiansui, trembling all over.

Another thug laughed. “Erniu, you idiot. She’s a damn mute, can’t talk, and she’s blind too. What the hell is she gonna say? Hahaha!”

Just then, the ringleader among them spoke up.

“Forget it, forget it.”

“Just give her a beating. She’s got no money anyway.”

“At least we get the job done. Let the boss know we bullied the little blind girl on schedule. Hurry up and finish so we can go. I’ve got a whore waiting.”

With that, he stepped back and raised his foot—slamming it into Su Yutao’s leg.

Not her knee. Her shin.

Pain—the kind that comes from a bone being struck. Su Yutao was knocked onto her side, sprawling on the ground. Qiansui rolled out of her arms.

Ignoring the pain, she reached out, found the penguin, hugged it back, and curled up again.

The thugs surrounded her, about to kick her again—

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