Volume 1 / Chapter 76: Late-Night Company from Sūtáng

“Clatter—”

Midnight, 12 o'clock.

After an entire day of business, the fruit shop was finally closing.

Mò Wénlì used a crowbar to pull down the rolling shutter. Inside, only a single light remained on, casting a dim, sleepy glow across the store.

“Wǎnyán! I'm heading home now. If I’m not here when you need to leave for school tomorrow, just go out through the small side shutter—the key’s on the table.”

“Got it. Good night, Uncle.”

“You’re not scared to sleep alone, are you?” Mò Wénlì joked, “Want me to call over Xuěyáo to keep you company?”

“I’ll be fine. You should get home soon too—it’s really late.”

“Alright. Oh, and if you don’t have money for breakfast tomorrow morning, just grab some from the cash drawer.” Mò Wénlì said this with a meaningful smile, then pulled the shutter all the way down.

His words left Lǐ Wǎnyán stunned for several seconds.

Just now, he almost felt more like a father than her real one.

That sentence was spoken with such casual ease—so relaxed, so… trusting.

Like a parent who doesn’t even worry that their daughter might clean out the entire cash drawer.

And from the look of him, Mò Wénlì really hadn’t given it a second thought.

Was this what trust looked like?

But… she had only just entered this family not long ago. Was it really okay to trust her that much already?

Or was he just someone with that kind of personality?

One who employs without suspicion, and never employs the suspicious?

A quiet sense of gratitude rose in Lǐ Wǎnyán’s chest.

She hesitated for a moment before walking over to the cash drawer. It wasn’t even locked. When she opened it, she saw the neatly stacked bills and coins inside.

All the 100 yuan notes were gone, but there was still quite a bit of change.

A rough glance showed more than a dozen 10s, just as many 20s, and three or four 50s. As for 5s, there was a whole stack of them.

There were also small bamboo baskets filled with coins, and piles of 2 and 1 yuan paper bills.

If Lǐ Wǎnyán wanted to, she could easily slip out 10 or 20 yuan by mixing bills and coins—and no one would likely notice.

Everyone has desires.

Some can restrain them; others cannot.

This overflowing drawer of cash was tempting, no doubt. But Lǐ Wǎnyán knew it didn’t belong to her.

Besides, she still had three crisp 100 yuan bills in her pocket. There was no need to touch this money.

So long as she had her own, she’d use hers. That was how it should be.

Resisting the faint stirring of temptation, she gently closed the drawer and returned to the small bedroom.

Sūtáng, the cat, followed her in.

She didn’t stop it. Instead, she scooped it up and placed it gently on the nightstand.

Though Sūtáng loved curling up on the bed, the nightstand wasn’t a bad second choice. It immediately laid down, its pupils unfocused, looking just as drowsy as its owner.

“Meow—” It yawned widely, curled up its body, and squinted its eyes as if it were already dreaming.

Lǐ Wǎnyán gave its head a gentle stroke, finally letting herself relax. She collapsed onto the bed.

All the fatigue from the past days seemed to melt away at once.

At last, she had a stable life.

And people willing to accept her.

They weren’t her blood relatives, but in a way… they were even closer than that.

This cramped little room was exactly the kind of space she liked—it made her feel safe.

She curled up under the quilt, her back pressed against the wall papered with layers of newspaper.

Perhaps because of those newspapers, the wall didn’t feel cold at all. In fact, it felt… soft.

“I wonder how many layers Xuěyáo put on here…” she mumbled to herself.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, she suddenly realized—the light was still on.

The problem was, the switch wasn’t right next to the bed. Since this room wasn’t originally designed as a bedroom, the switch was by the door.

And now, she was already stripped down to her underwear and wrapped up in her blanket. Getting up just to switch off the light was like trying to escape a tortilla wrap—unreasonably hard.

A whimsical thought popped into her mind.

She poked Sūtáng gently in the back and whispered, “Sūtáng? Can you go turn off the light for me?”

“Meow~” Sūtáng stretched lazily, clearly not interested in moving—it had just gotten the nightstand nice and warm.

“If you do understand what I’m saying,” Wǎnyán said solemnly, “and if you turn off the light… I’ll let you sleep inside the blanket.”

Then she blushed slightly at her own words.

Good thing no one was around. If anyone saw her trying to negotiate with a cat, they’d probably think she’d lost it.

But then again… hadn’t Mò Xuěyáo also talked to Sūtáng earlier that evening as if it was perfectly normal?

As if she didn’t care what others thought—or maybe… it just never even crossed her mind.

As these thoughts swirled, Sūtáng twitched its ears, leaped gracefully off the nightstand, and padded toward the door with feline elegance.

Then, with one swift pounce, it slapped the light switch with its paw.

Click. Darkness.

Lǐ Wǎnyán stared in disbelief and delight.

Still, she wasn’t sure. Had Sūtáng really understood her words?

Or was it just annoyed by the light?

Whatever the reason, the next moment Sūtáng darted back onto the bed.

Wǎnyán hesitated, thinking about its paws that had probably just touched the dirty concrete.

But remembering her promise, she scooted over and let it burrow into the blanket.

And so, accompanied by a tabby cat that seemed far too human, Lǐ Wǎnyán drifted off to sleep.

It was, perhaps, the most restful sleep she’d had in a long time—

If only the nightmares would stop coming.

---

[Warning gore]

This was the world of dreams.

But Lǐ Wǎnyán didn’t realize it.

At the start of every dream, we forget where we are. We forget we’re even dreaming.

She felt her hands and feet tightly bound, her mouth sealed with tape, thrown like garbage into the back of a van.

She couldn’t see who was driving—but in the passenger seat sat a long-haired woman.

Just from the back, the figure looked hauntingly like her mother.

Panic rose in her chest as she stared out the window—only to see barren hills falling away behind them.

The van rattled over gravel with a clack-clack-clack, like it was driving over an old stone road.

Finally, it stopped in the middle of nowhere—no road in sight.

They had reached a cliffside. Below lay a deep ravine.

Even with a river flowing far beneath, a fall from this height meant certain death.

“Get out!” a man’s voice barked.

Then her scalp burned with pain—someone had grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of the van.

With her legs bound, she couldn't keep her balance. She hit the ground hard.

The one dragging her out… was her father.

He looked drunk. His face, covered in bloated flesh, now twisted into something truly monstrous.

Then, the woman in the front seat was pulled out too.

She lay motionless on the ground.

Like a corpse.

Only when her body was flipped over did the horror truly reveal itself—

Her mother’s eyes had been gouged out. A deep bruise wrapped around her neck, as if her bones had snapped. Her head lolled at a terrible angle, barely held up by what was left of her neck muscles.

Lǐ Wǎnyán's eyes went wide with terror. She struggled with all her might.

But the ropes were tight—no matter how she thrashed, they wouldn’t budge.

Death loomed inches away.

Her father still didn’t speak. He kicked her mother’s corpse into the abyss.

After a long pause, a distant splash echoed from the depths below—so loud it shook the air, bouncing through the canyon.

Then he grabbed Wǎnyán’s hair again and dragged her to the edge.

Below was nothing but blackness, an endless void ready to devour.

She had no power to resist.

A final shove.

She fell—

Heart pounding, falling faster and faster—

And then jolted awake with a thud.

Her head hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her skull.

Sūtáng jumped off the bed and landed on her chest, staring at her with wide eyes, as if wondering how she ended up on the floor.

“Ugh… hng—” Wǎnyán groaned, clenching her jaw as she sat up.

The ache in her head sharpened as her senses returned.

There was still half an hour left before she needed to get up.

But there was no way she could sleep again.

Not with the pain… and not after that nightmare.

Her greatest relief was knowing it had just been a dream.

Sūtáng padded over, gently brushing her ankle with its head, meowing softly—like it was trying to comfort her.

Lǐ Wǎnyán sighed, put the bedding back on the bed, and stepped out of the room.

The sink was outside, near the wall beside the fruit shop. A lone tap was installed there.

Dirty water? Just dump it in the street. The drain was right next to it anyway—it would all get washed away.

It was still early. The sky had barely begun to brighten.

She didn’t have to be up so early… but since she was, she might as well head to school.

That was what she decided.

She rolled up the shutter, slung her backpack over her shoulder, locked up again, and walked off toward school.

Even this early, quite a few breakfast stalls were already open.

The air was crisp, fresh, and sweet with dew.

She bought a pair of sesame flatbreads and fried dough sticks from a roadside stall, eating them along the way.

When she reached school, even Mò Xuěyáo wasn’t there yet.

The classroom was empty.

Normally, she enjoyed this peaceful solitude.

But today… she found herself hoping someone would arrive sooner.

With Sūtáng around, maybe it wouldn’t feel so quiet.

For the first time, she realized…

Even that soft, whiny mewl of Sūtáng’s—

was beautiful to hear.