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

After Jiang Ran fell asleep, Su Qing leaned against the headboard, her phone screen dimmed to its lowest setting, illuminating her expressionless face.

She wasn't watching videos or checking messages; she was just going through the events of the day in her mind from beginning to end: the voices and faces in the office, the little guy's bleeding scrapes on his knee, and the trembling fingers clutching her clothes.

She turned her head to look at Jiang Ran's sleeping face in the moonlight streaming through the window.

The little guy was lying on his side, holding the lop-eared rabbit in his arms, the gauze wrapped around his knees forming a small arch under the thin blanket.

His breathing was even, but his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were still struggling with someone in his dream.

The system spoke in her mind, its tone more formal than usual, clearly having prepared itself for a while before speaking: [Host, I need to provide a formal assessment of today's events.]

From a data analysis perspective, your handling of the situation in the office was too reckless. Slapping the homeroom teacher was an impulsive decision that could trigger a series of negative chain reactions.

[Interpersonal communication often offers better solutions than violence; it is recommended that the host prioritize communication and negotiation when facing conflict in the future.]

Su Qing did not answer immediately.

She turned off her phone screen, leaned against the headboard, and stared at the warm yellow light cast by the small nightlight on the ceiling.

After a moment, she calmly said to herself, "You're right."

"But do you know how I survived before? Not by reasoning."

Her tone was very soft, as if she were stating a fact that had nothing to do with her: "I was released from the orphanage when I was twelve years old. I carried bricks on construction sites, slept under bridges, and was robbed of my wages in an alley. No one ever stood up for me, not even once."

"This taught me something: as long as I'm ruthless and fearless enough, no one will dare to mess with me. I don't provoke others, but if anyone touches my people, I only have this one way to deal with it. So you might think it's reckless, but for me, it's instinct."

The system remained silent for a moment, seemingly processing the parts of the statement that were outside its logical framework.

Then it didn't continue the topic, instead saying: [Jiang Ran's knee abrasions are expected to scab over within three days, and the psychological stress recovery period is estimated to be five to seven days.]

[Under normal circumstances, it's recommended to return to school in two days, but I've noticed you seem to have different plans.]

"We'll talk about it once she's healed," Su Qing replied decisively. "If she doesn't want to go, she doesn't have to. Anyway, she's already passed elementary school. Staying home a few more days won't affect her application to Anhui University."

The system remained silent for a little longer this time, then responded in an unusual, almost conciliatory tone: [The return-to-school suggestion has been adjusted based on the host's decision and marked as 'flexible arrangement'. Also, tomorrow is Jiang Ran's birthday.]

Su Qing was taken aback.

She genuinely didn't know Jiang Ran's birthday.

  

The adoption paperwork only listed the year and month; she was too busy to check the specific dates at the time.

She wondered in her mind how the system knew this, and the system's reply was concise and official: [The system database can retrieve citizen registration information. Jiang Ran's date of birth is August 17th, tomorrow.]

Su Qing did not ask any further questions.

She leaned against the headboard, turning her head to look at the sleeping little one beside her.

The moonlight cast the shadows of her eyelashes on her cheeks, like two little butterflies resting quietly.

She has never celebrated her own birthday.

When she was a child in the orphanage, the children's birthdays were celebrated collectively. One day each month, a small cake was given to each child born in that month. She didn't have her own special day, and no one ever sang a birthday song for her alone.

But Jiang Ran is different.

This was her first birthday since coming to this family, and the first time in her life that someone had specially celebrated her birthday.

The next morning, Su Qing went out by herself.

When I came back, I had an extra paper bag in my hand, containing a brand new set of watercolor pens and a thick sketchbook with a little white rabbit holding a carrot printed on the cover.

She didn't mention her birthday, so Jiang Ran didn't know about it. She only noticed the new watercolor pens and her eyes lit up. She said thank you, sister, and then carefully placed them on the coffee table, next to the old set of paintbrushes.

In the afternoon, Su Qing locked herself in the kitchen for three whole hours.

She didn't let Jiang Ran in to look. The system reminded her twice that the egg ratio was too high and the cake might not be fluffy enough, and that the cream whipping time had exceeded the standard time by forty seconds, but she shut them down with a "quiet" message.

When the sun began to set and the kitchen door finally opened, the cake Su Qing brought out wasn't the kind of exquisitely crafted cake found in dessert shops.

The cream coating wasn't very smooth, and the piping around the edges was uneven in size. A whole strawberry was placed on top, and next to it, a line of small, crooked words in chocolate sauce read: "Happy Birthday, Xiao Ran."

But she made this cake with the same standards she would use for making raspberry white chocolate mousse, taking every step very seriously.

The cake was chiffon, and she squatted in front of the oven for a full forty minutes while it was baking, occasionally using a flashlight to check the rise. The system said she was 30% more nervous than when making desserts in a shop.

She did not refute it.

Dinner was longevity noodles.

Su Qing added two eggs when kneading the dough, so the noodles weren't very uniform in thickness, but after cooking, they were arranged in a neat circle in the bowl with a poached egg in the middle.

The system says the poached egg is 78% round, which is considered acceptable.

Jiang Ran held the bowl and ate the noodles very slowly, as if she was chewing on something she didn't want to finish too quickly.

Su Qing sat opposite her, watching the little one eat noodles with her head down.

The steam blurred her face, but she could see her eyes shining brightly behind the mist.

She brought the cake to the table, lit the candles, and turned off the main light.

The candlelight cast the shadows of the two people on the wall, swaying and flickering, one tall and one short.

She looked at Jiang Ran's face, which was warm and glowing in the candlelight, and suddenly smiled.

She said to the system in her mind, "I used to think it didn't matter whether I celebrated my birthday or not, since no one would celebrate it for me anyway."

Looking back now, it wasn't that I didn't care; it was that no one had ever given it to me, so I could only be indifferent.

The system's voice, unusually, lacked any data analysis tone: [Host, if your statement were entered into Jiang Ran's growth record, it would be marked as an "Important Event."]

Su Qing didn't reply. She simply looked up and said to Jiang Ran in a very ordinary tone, "Make a wish."

Jiang Ran closed her eyes, clasped her hands in front of her chest, and gently moved her lips.

She made her wish in such a short time that Su Qing thought the candle was burning too slowly.

Later she realized that some wishes don't need to be long, because they have already been silently recited in her heart a million times.

"I want to be with my sister forever."

As she blew out the candle, Jiang Ran's face was briefly illuminated by the last flicker of the candlelight before the entire room was enveloped in the soft twilight of a small nightlight.

She opened her eyes and looked at Su Qing. The light in her eyes was not swallowed by the darkness; instead, it shone even brighter.

After turning on the light, Su Qing placed the first slice of cake in front of her, with a whole strawberry sitting steadily in the center of the cream.

She leaned back in her chair and said in a tone as if she were talking about something very exciting for the future, "When you turn fifteen, I'll make you an even more amazing, super luxurious cake that embodies all my pastry-making experience!"

"It must have multiple layers of filling, be made with handmade fondant, and topped with a chocolate castle—guaranteed to be even prettier than those in the windows of half-sugar dessert shops!"

Jiang Ran, biting her fork, blinked and asked, "Why fifteen?"

Su Qing was taken aback by the question.

Her fingers paused for a moment on the handle of the cake knife, she lowered her eyes, her expression flawless, only the smile at the corner of her mouth became very faint.

I can't just tell the truth.

You can't just say, "Because my sister can only be with you until you're fifteen."

She simply reached out and ruffled Jiang Ran's hair as usual, making her bangs stick up, her tone as relaxed as if she were saying that the weather was nice today: "Because by then, our little Ran will have grown up."

Jiang Ran didn't ask any further questions. She just smiled and buried her head in her cake. A small piece of cream got on the corner of her mouth, which Su Qing wiped off with a tissue.

She didn't see Su Qing turn around to go to the kitchen to put the plates away. Instead, she stood in front of the sink for a while, the tap running, the plates already rinsed clean.