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

The Jiang family's house is located in a villa area on the hillside in the east of the city. It takes several turns to drive up there. Tall French plane trees are planted along the road. When it gets late at night, the streetlights cast dappled light through the branches and leaves onto the asphalt road.

Normally by this time, Jiang Yi would have already finished showering and been lying in bed having the nanny read stories to her, but not today.

She stood in the middle of the living room, her schoolbag still on her back, her shoes still on, and no one helped her brush off the dust that had gotten on her school uniform skirt.

Her tear tracks dried and then became wet again, and she kept her lips tightly pressed together, not daring to make a sound.

Jiang Mingyuan sat in the leather chair in his study, with several unapproved documents spread out in front of him, but he didn't read a single word of them.

He had just heard the gist of what happened over the phone: Jiang Yi tore up her classmates' test papers at school, instigated older boys to beat them up, and Cui Jiayi was distorting the truth in the office, pointing her finger at the other parents and cursing them.

He placed his phone on the table, remained silent for a moment, and then got up and left the study.

In the living room, Jiang Yi's father, Jiang Mingchuan, stood beside the sofa, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.

He didn't shout, but his voice was extremely low, each word sounding like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth.

He asked Jiang Yi if she knew where she went wrong, and Jiang Yi cried and said she did. He then asked why she tore up someone else's test paper, and Jiang Yi sobbed and said it was because she hadn't passed the test as well as hers.

Jiang Mingchuan closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the anger in his eyes hadn't diminished in the slightest, but his tone was even more somber: "You couldn't beat others, so you tore up their papers? Who taught you that? Your aunt? Or do you think that's how people from the Jiang family should behave in public?"

Jiang Yi trembled at his question, and dared not even cry out loud, her tears falling onto the floor in a steady stream.

Jiang Yi's mother, Shen Ruoyun, sat on the armrest of the sofa, looking at her daughter's tear-streaked face. She felt sorry for her, but she didn't say a word to plead for her.

She knew her daughter well. The child had been praised for her intelligence and beauty since she was a child, and was known as "the little princess of the Jiang family." She had always had a smooth life, and she couldn't accept the sudden appearance of someone smarter than her.

But does being unable to accept something give you the right to bully others?

She bullies other children at school and is spoiled at home. Once she leaves the Jiang family, who will spoil her?

Today she tore up the test paper, but what about tomorrow? The day after? Will she also become like Cui Jiayi, turning into an adult who bullies others and thinks she's completely right?

"Go to school tomorrow and apologize to the girl and Cheng Xiaoyu in person," Shen Ruoyun finally spoke, her tone calm but uncompromising. "Not a perfunctory apology, but a sincere one. You can talk to your mother about anything else only after they have forgiven you. Until then, all extracurricular activities are canceled, your phone is confiscated, and your allowance is suspended."

Jiang Yi cried so hard her whole body trembled, but when she saw her mother's eyes, she knew there was no room for negotiation. She could only bite the back of her hand to suppress her sobs and nod her head with all her might.

Jiang Mingyuan stood at the door of the study, listening to the suppressed sobbing and his brother's low scolding from the living room across the corridor. He turned to look at his wife, who was sitting on the edge of the bedroom bed, head down and silent.

Cui Ying was wearing a plain-colored loungewear dress, her hands folded on her knees, her fingers unconsciously twisting a loose thread on the hem of the dress.

She wasn't wearing makeup tonight, and the fine lines around her eyes were particularly noticeable under the warm yellow bedside lamp. She looked much more tired than usual.

"I told you long ago that your stepsister is of bad character," Jiang Mingyuan said, leaning against the doorframe, his tone tinged with suppressed helplessness. "You wouldn't believe me, and you insisted on bringing her home. Now look what she's done to Xiaoyi!"

Cui Ying raised her head, her eyes reddening. Her lips moved a few times before she could speak, her voice slightly hoarse: "I thought she had changed... Last time she came to our house for dinner, she said a lot of nice things to me, saying that she was immature before and wanted to be a good person in the future. I thought that my father asked me to take care of her before he passed away, so I couldn't not give her a chance. Who knew she... she would actually treat a seven-year-old child like that..."

She didn't finish speaking, but Jiang Mingyuan understood.

He didn't say anything more to blame her. He walked over and sat down next to his wife, putting his arm around her shoulder.

He could feel her shoulders trembling slightly, not from the cold, but from her overwhelming emotions.

Since that incident seven years ago, Cui Ying's health has been poor, with recurring neurasthenia, and she cannot withstand too much stimulation.

He hadn't planned to tell her the details on the phone today, but Cui Jiayi was, after all, his stepsister, and he couldn't hide it from her any longer.

Jiang Mingyuan called his eldest son into the study.

  

Jiang Ren closed the door behind him as he walked in. He sat down in the chair opposite the desk, with a desk lamp and a few scattered documents between the father and son.

Jiang Mingyuan didn't ask about the school. He knew his eldest son's sense of propriety in handling matters and that he wouldn't neglect anything that needed to be done.

He only asked one question: "Did your mother take her medicine tonight?" Jiang Ren nodded and said she did, and added that he had asked the kitchen to heat up a glass of milk for his mother before coming to the study after watching her drink it.

Jiang Mingyuan leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a while.

He is in his early fifties, and most of his hair at his temples has turned white, but he still sits upright and his eyes are still sharp.

But every time his wife was mentioned, that sharpness would be unconsciously replaced by a deeper worry.

"Your mother hasn't been sleeping well these past few days," he said slowly, his voice low, as if talking to himself. "She's been taking care of herself for the past few years and has gotten much better than before, but every time that Cui Jiayi comes and causes trouble, she has to take ten days or half a month to recover. Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and sits on the bed in a daze. I have to call her several times before she comes to her senses."

He paused, looked up at his eldest son, and said, "I know this has nothing to do with you, but you should keep an eye on things at home. Your mother... she's too sentimental. She believes her stepsister's sweet words and gets deceived again and again. I don't have the energy to keep an eye on things every time. You're more rational than your mother. If Cui Jiayi comes to visit again, just turn her away."

Jiang Ren didn't interrupt, but listened quietly.

He knew that what his father really wanted to say at the end was not about Cui Jiayi, but about his mother.

The father didn't say it explicitly, but he knew that the root of his mother's lingering pain over the years was not her stepsister's character issues, but her younger sister.

Seven years ago, in that spring, he had just turned twelve.

That day, the house was in complete chaos. My father paced back and forth in the hallway, and my mother's sobs came from the bedroom, sounding suppressed and desperate.

He stood at the corner of the stairs, watching several doctors in white coats go in and out, but no one had time to explain to him what had happened.

He later learned that his sister had passed away.

It wasn't an illness, it wasn't an accident, it was stolen in the hospital.

The doctor who stole the child was a mentally unstable middle-aged woman who had worked in the obstetrics and gynecology department but was later transferred due to serious psychological problems.

The reason she stole her sister is still chilling to this day: she felt that the child looked like her deceased daughter, and she wanted to take her back and raise her.

By the time the police found her, the child was no longer with her.

Throughout the interrogation, the woman repeated the same sentence over and over, with a chillingly calm smile on her face: "I've returned her to God."

After a long investigation, the police finally found some pieces of clothing and unidentified bone fragments near an abandoned courtyard in the woman's hometown.

DNA matching was performed many times, but the samples were too damaged, and no conclusive conclusion was reached.

The case was ultimately closed due to "insufficient evidence but strong evidence pointing to the victim."

Since then, my mother's mental state has never truly improved.

Her neurasthenia came and went. When she was in good condition, she could live a normal life, but when she was in bad condition, she couldn't sleep all night and would sit alone at the door of the nursery, lost in thought.

That room was never demolished. Inside, there was an empty crib and a closet full of unworn baby clothes. The curtains were pink with bunny patterns on them.

The father didn't speak, but simply raised his hand and patted his eldest son's shoulder lightly, yet the hand lingered on the man's for several seconds before he withdrew it.

Jiang Ren nodded, stood up, and opened the study door.

In the living room, Jiang Yi was still sobbing and wiping away tears, while Shen Ruoyun was bending down to wipe her face.

Everything is getting better, or rather, it is trying its best to get better.

But no one knew that the child who should have disappeared from this world seven years ago was now nestled in someone else's shoulder, having just had his tears wiped away by that person.