My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

At 4:30 p.m., Su Qing took off her apron, greeted Chef Zhong, and came out of the kitchen.

The shop was in a lull right now; the afternoon tea rush had passed, and the dessert menu for dinner hadn't been arranged yet. The young women at the counter were huddled together changing the coffee machine's filter paper.

Yan Ning leaned against the door frame next to the front desk, holding three red bills in her hand. When she saw Yan Ning walk over, she didn't say anything, just waved them around.

Su Qing paused, stood in front of him, and stretched out her small hand, palm facing up.

Yan Ning was amused by her self-righteous action.

He looked down at his right foot, which was still throbbing, then at the outstretched hand in front of him, and waved three banknotes in front of Su Qing's eyes.

"Xiaoqing, you accidentally injured the boss just now. Do you think I should deduct some of your wages?"

After saying that, Yan Ning's lips curled up slightly. It was the kind of smile that knew exactly how the other person would respond, but she just wanted to see her reaction. It had a slightly irritating quality to it.

Su Qing remained expressionless, withdrew her outstretched hand, and turned it into two fingers, making her meaning clear: you deduct one, give me two.

Yan Ning chuckled and handed over the money.

Su Qing had just raised her hand, her fingertips not even touching the edge of the banknote, when Yan Ning flipped her wrist and pulled it back.

Their movements were quick, accurate, and steady; it was clear they had come prepared.

Su Qing looked at her empty palms, then at Yan Ning's face, which was feigning composure but clearly concealed smugness in the corners of his eyes, and remained silent for a moment.

Then she took a step back.

Yan Ning's smugness faltered for a moment.

  

He instinctively felt that the stepping back was not right, but before he could react to what was wrong, Su Qing had already raised her right foot and, with a slap, stepped squarely on his foot that had just been hit by the flour sack.

Yan Ning froze.

He was still holding three banknotes in his left hand, hanging in mid-air, and the smug smile on his lips just moments before vanished at a visible speed.

He didn't scream, not because he didn't want to, but because the young girls at the front desk happened to turn around. He used all his cultivation to swallow the scream back, maintaining a near-perfect calm on his face.

Yan Ning took a deep breath and squeezed out through gritted teeth, "You're stepping on the same foot all the time..."

"I know." Su Qing withdrew her foot, her tone as calm as if she were stating the weather today.

Yan Ning looked down at her right foot, which had suffered many misfortunes.

First, I was hit with a flour bag, then I was stepped on by the same person; the two incidents combined took less than an hour.

He began to wonder if his foot had offended someone he shouldn't have.

Su Qing pulled her feet back and stood up straight, her tone as relaxed as if she were discussing what to have for dinner: "I don't need today's wages. Consider the three hundred as medical expenses. I'm going to pick Xiao Ran up from school."

After saying that, Su Qing turned and left. The hem of her light gray hoodie fluttered slightly in the wind at the door. Her steps were light and quick, without the slightest hesitation.

I had only taken two steps when someone grabbed my wrist from behind.

Su Qing turned around, and Yan Ning was still standing there, his left hand gripping her wrist. The grip wasn't strong, but it was steady and firm, carrying a hint of resentment.

A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, whether from pain or from holding back laughter, it was hard to tell, but the expression on his face was no longer the same arrogant, feigned calm.

"You really haven't changed at all." He said this with a hint of helplessness in his voice, the last syllable sinking in, but the corners of his mouth were turned up.

He folded three banknotes and stuffed them into Su Qing's hoodie pocket, then took a package of cream puffs from the nearby shelf and put them in her arms.

He made extra cream puffs this morning, using strawberries that had just arrived, and the box was tied with a small pink ribbon.

Su Qing glanced down at the bag of cream puffs in her arms, then looked up at Yan Ning. A slow smile crept across her face, her eyes crinkling with a hint of smug satisfaction in her voice: "Brother Yan Ning, you don't want the medical bills anymore?"

Yan Ning was speechless at her laughter. She waved her hand, turned around and refused to look at her. Her back seemed to say, "I'm really speechless. Go, go, go. I really owe you something."

Su Qing didn't argue with him. She hugged the cream puff, waved the box in her hand, and turned to push open the glass door.

The wind chimes tinkled a few times, and the door closed behind her.

Yan Ning stood there, watching through the floor-to-ceiling glass as the figure with a ponytail crossed the road, turned past the ginkgo tree, and gradually disappeared at the intersection.

He looked down at his right foot, which had been stepped on twice, and hissed softly.

"...You have no conscience."

He paused for a moment, gently turned his right foot on the ground to make sure he was alright, and then looked down at the hand that had just grabbed Su Qing's wrist.

The palm still retained a trace of body heat, and his wrist was so thin that he could completely close his fingers with a single grip; he was much thinner than he had been two months ago.

He let his hand hang down and rubbed his thumb against the knuckle of his index finger.

"So thin."

He spoke those two words in a very low voice, so low that the young woman at the front desk wiping the coffee machine didn't hear him at all.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

On the other side, as the school bell rang, Su Qing was already standing under the old sycamore tree at the school gate.

Groups of children poured out of the school building, their colorful little schoolbags bouncing and jumping in the crowd.

Jiang Ran walked in the middle, carrying two books in her hands, her backpack strap neatly hanging on her shoulder. Her eyes swept across the crowd, and then accurately locked onto the figure under the sycamore tree.

Her pace quickened noticeably, turning from a brisk walk into a jog, the rabbit charm on her backpack bouncing on her shoulder.

"Sister!" She ran up to Su Qing, looked up, and had a slight blush on her cheeks, whether from running or from being in the sun, it was hard to tell.

Su Qing squatted down, placed the bag of cream puffs in her hand, and gently straightened her disheveled bangs: "Are you tired today? Did the teacher assign a lot of homework?"

"Not tired." Jiang Ran held the cream puff box, her eyes lighting up, but she didn't open it right away. Instead, she looked up and carefully examined Su Qing's face. "Are you tired today, sister?"

Su Qing looked into her earnest eyes, smiled, reached out and ruffled her hair, then stood up and took her hand: "Not tired, I found a new job, I bake cakes."

Jiang Ran blinked, hugged the cream puff box to her chest, and followed Su Qing.

After walking a few steps, she opened the box, took out a cream puff, stood on tiptoe, and held it to Su Qing's mouth: "Sister, you eat first."

Su Qing looked down at the little cream puff covered in frosting, then at the little guy standing on tiptoe, trying to raise his hand high. She bent down, took a bite, and chewed it. "It's sweet. You can eat the rest. I've already eaten at the shop."

"My sister is lying."

Jiang Ran said softly, but with a smile on her lips, she stuffed the remaining half of the cream puff into her mouth, her little face puffed up, and said indistinctly, "Sister always says she's eaten but she hasn't actually eaten. Sister, when I grow up, I'll find a way to earn money to support you."

She spoke calmly, not as if she were making a promise, but as if she were stating a fact she had already decided upon.

Su Qing paused slightly in her steps.

She looked down at the little guy beside her, who was just over seven years old. He had a cream puff in his mouth, and his little face was puffed up like a little hamster, but his eyes were very serious.

She helplessly reached out and gently tapped Jiang Ran's nose: "Alright, then I'll rely on you to support me from now on."

Jiang Ran squinted her eyes when her nose was tapped, then nodded vigorously, making her bangs fly up.

The two walked hand in hand along the path lined with ginkgo trees toward the subway station.

The evening sunset painted the roadside orange-red, and ginkgo leaves were still slowly falling. Occasionally, one or two would drift onto Jiang Ran's schoolbag, and Su Qing would reach out to brush them off for her.